


There Was No Other Way

by ScarletSprings



Series: Devotion Series [1]
Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Butterfly Effect, Chaos Theory, Do-Over, F/F, F/M, M/M, Second Chances, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-01-09 18:37:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 121,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12282180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletSprings/pseuds/ScarletSprings
Summary: She will bear it so that they do not have to because Clarke Griffin's devotion was the substance of legends that would outlive her. Truly gets started in 3rd chapter. Part 2 in the series is in the works, but I'm waiting to watch season 5 on netflix before I continue working on it. Just from the promos and spoilers I've seen, looks like a hell of a lot of character development going on.





	1. Wanheda

That take-off might have been the most victorious sight she'd ever seen- the fiery hope for the last of her people. Bellamy, Raven, Monty, Harper, and even Murphy... she pleaded silently to whatever powers may be that they'd make it. Live another day, even if she could not. Deep blue eyes watched, and savored the moment. Nimble hands once more used to a charcoal stick or a scalpel completed her task. Relief washed throughout her despite the weariness that threatened to have her meet her end falling from the tower. Her skin prickled as she hurried down. The death wave was closing in and it was more terrifying that she could have even imagined. 

“May we meet again.” she whispered. “But not soon. Stay as long as you can. I'll wait for you.”

Hope for herself ran out. 

This was fitting and just.

The sacrifice to absolve her of the countless sins she'd stained herself with in just nine bloody months. 

Blood must have blood- this was the law of earth and now Clarke understood it fully for the first time in an icy gripping of her soul. 

It didn't mean that people must take revenge. 

No, no. That was too brutally literal. It was worse. It meant that karma would even the scales.

Eventually. 

She understood, and yet the primal instinct to survive clawed at her. 

So she ran. 

Hurtling across the land as if hell itself was chasing her because the closest manifestation of it was. 

Praimfaya fell, the death wave overtaking the land, and the mighty Wanheda skidded desperately into the meager shelter, landing in a heap upon the floor. 

Fighting with the suit she could feel melting into her skin, she clawed it off of herself desperately, not even realizing how much skin was tearing off with it. Only her face seemed mostly spared, having not been pressed closely to anything since her helmet had fallen off when she hit the floor. As darkness enveloped her, she could feel the blisters tormenting her shredded skin, and blood continued to heave itself out of her. Somewhere inside she still knew she should drag herself up to her feet. Clean the wretched wounds and start getting fluids back into her system. She could survive this. This she felt sure of- that the nightblood could save her. She must be willing to save herself. Rise. Clean. Fluids. Why? Rise. Clean. Fluids. Save yourself! Her mind insisted. But no. It was too much. She'd seen too much. 

Torturous hours passed damningly slow into agonizing days, until her last breathe trembled from her. 

“My fight is over.” she whispered to no one, and everyone. 

The Commander of Death died in a pool of her own black blood, succumbing not to Praimfaya itself but to the injuries and weakness incurred for the final seven people she'd save in her lifetime. 

Clarke Griffin died, age eighteen years and eight months, having grown from political princess to prodigy medical apprentice to traitor to hero. 

Not that it would matter as she died alone not knowing if she'd saved those she'd finally given her life for. 

Not knowing, either, that the death wave brought down the Polis tower where she'd loved and schemed and lost, upon the final sanctuary of humanity. 

Clarke Griffin died, when she might have lived, perhaps because she could so vividly imagine Lexa on the other side awaiting her. The girl, not the commander, not the victim with a bullet's wound in her belly, just the pretty girl who had a loving heart hidden somewhere under barbed protections. 

Her dad. Floated for honorable treason. How she'd loved him- what would it be to be reunited? 

Finn. Her hand delivering his fate. Driven mad by love. How bittersweet was he to her. 

Wells. Killed by a child who's parents his father killed. Circle of death. A circle she'd spurned on. 

And Charlotte, Lincoln, Roan... Each senselessly dead. Killers, yet her people, still. 

All those they'd buried at their pitiful camp they'd called home. 

The numerous they'd lost since they'd abandoned their home.

Too many of her people were on the other side too, and it was time to join them. 

Clarke had no concept of heaven or spiritual immortality. 

Only Lexa's words- death is not the end, and Lexa's face luring her deeper. 

The Commander of Death surrendered. 

The princess of the sky people greeted death like an old friend and willingly went to whatever awaited her on the other side.


	2. Awakening

Awakening 

Clarke Griffin woke up screaming from agony. 

Alone.

In a sound-proof cell of dull gray metal where she could neither see anything nor be seen. 

The steady, roaring machine hum throbbed in her ears, and she hysterically flailed around her cell as she could finally open her eyes. 

This could not be happening. 

Clarke gasped and wheezed, trying to hold back shrieks of confusion and pain, turning around and around, trying to understand. 

Her cell, on the Ark.

What had happened?! 

Trembling, burning with pain, with the floor shifting unkindly beneath her. She retreated panting into the back corner behind her cot. She eyed the door in confusion. The walls were bare, her hair was frayed, and blisters covered her from chest to feet, one of the three outfits she remembered from solitary covered her frame, and none of this made any sense at all. She stabbed her hand onto the sharp corner of the facet, and watched in breathless fascination as thick, black, shining blood welled up on the small cut. 

By the time Clarke pulled herself together, there was a pile of the ration bags piled up, spilling over, in front of the tiny grate. Crawling from her position, stiff and battered, she crossed the tiny cell and sat hunched beside the door. Counting slowly, she realized that she'd been sitting there long enough to have skipped three meals, which considering the twice daily rations... gulping the first small ration, she drained it down and eyed the other two questioningly. 

One corner of her cell was filled with a toilet and sink which meant she literally never had to leave it. That had been a massive part of the grief for her, yet now it was a frantic relief to remember. No one was coming to see her anytime soon- right?

Opening the second ration pack, she found a small bag of charcoal sticks, and sobbed out a wretched breathe. 

It was her seventeenth birthday, she'd been in the skybox from a little over three months, and today was the first time charcoal was slipped to her. Just like she'd dreamed. She'd thought it was her mother, but it had been Wells' doing. 

Was it real? All those horrid.. dreams? Or was this the dream?

The blisters, the black blood though... 

Had she lived it, or only seen it in her dreams?

Was it prophesy, or warning? 

Time travel?

No.

Psychosis. 

This unfortunately was the only actual possibility if she refused to believe it was simply a dream. 

That had to be what it was though. A vivid nightmare, but nothing more. 

Clarke couldn't figure it out, and with a shuddering breathe, returning to her corner to painfully mull it over. Mentally creating, and amending lists of things she wouldn't allow to happen, things she must do, and people that must be saved...

Eleven months passed, not that she bothered to mark them upon the wall like she'd done... in her dream, and yet Clarke knew this was no dream. The memories had never faded, and she'd had endless hours to contemplate them. Those confounding blisters had faded to scars covering her, legs worst of all, and she long since lost her curiosity of it all. She would do her best by her people, all of them, the One Hundred she'd dreamed about every single night since The Night. Oh, she dreamed of plenty of others, but what her dreams had made clear was the One Hundred (one hundred and two, her mind reminded her quietly) were her people. There were some others, certainly, that she felt a deep, thrumming affinity for, but they could take care of themselves. The One Hundred, though, they were her responsibility, those were the ones in need of a leader, of a protector.

Oh, but this wasn't some chance to make everything all right. New things would go wrong, she couldn't fix everything she'd dreamed of, and thanks to Jake Griffin, she knew of the chaos theory... The moment she began to walk a different path, the whole thing would change inexplicably. In fact this might go even worse than her dreams, but at least it was another chance. To keep them safer, to keep them whole. Different ones could, perhaps would, die instead... it wouldn't the path she'd seen, smoothed over, but a new path. Clarke could only hope it would be a better one. At least she was wiser, more experienced, if only in her dreams. With nothing but her dreams and thoughts for nearly a year, she felt like an entirely different person than the girl who'd been thrown into the cell so long ago, but also different than the girl who'd been dropped from space in her dreams. 

I will bear it so that they don't have to, but I am the only one I can control.


	3. Day One

Day One

Suddenly her door flung open in that deafening moment she'd long since stopped hoping for, and two guards rushed in barking at her like she was a seasoned soldier rather than one small, treasonous teenager. 

She already knew what was coming, and knew there wasn't anything she could do about it. 

Still she couldn't help fighting, ending up in her mother's arms fading into the oblivion of sedation, even as hatred welled up scalding and fierce at the cool hands petting on her, barely noting that this was exactly as she'd dreamed, but vowing that she'd use this second chance. 

Waking up slowly, her sight was filled with Wells' anxious face, just as she'd dreamed, but she wouldn't live the way her dreams had showed her to. 

Clarke could feel her hands upon him, and see his corpse before her, feel Charlotte in her arms, trying to protect her from Murphy. 

“Welcome back.” said the boy who'd been her best friend. 

“Wells.” she murmured groggily. “I know it was Abby and Theolonius. Not you.” 

His earnest face, so open to her, broke into a startled hope, reaching out for her hand and she gripped hers tightly around him.

“They floated him, Wells, I can't ever forgive that.” muttered Clarke grimly, and still looking so surprised, but he nodded jerkily. 

Looking him in those dark, desperate eyes, Clarke was fairly sure he was willing to understand, even if he didn't yet but then there was Finn. 

“Look, your father floated me after all.” announced Finn cheerfully, and Clarke just sighed, drawing Finn's bright eyes to her after all. 

“You're the traitor whose been in solitary for a year!” greeted the beautifully young face of the boy she'd once called Spacewalker. 

“And you're Reyes' boyfriend.” replied Clarke flatly, and the boy looked as if he'd been slapped but the blonde continued before he could retort. “Now get back into that harness before someone gets to tell her you died when we hit atmosphere.” 

Sucking in a breathe in confusion, Finn hesitated, but at her hiss of exasperation, he flailed back into his own seat. He sat there silently, ignoring all the chatter around him. 

“How do you know Raven?” asked the startled boy. 

“You mean the youngest zeroG mechanic in half a century? My dad was the chief engineer before he got floated. He knew her.” replied Clarke coolly. 

“So what'd he get floated for?” asked another boy a few spaces over, Dax, Clarke remembered unpleasantly. 

“Treason against the council. Apparently trying to break the news that the Ark's dying and something needs to be figured out is treason. Bet they haven't told anyone they're dropping us either.” replied Clarke as coolly as possible, though Wells was eyeing her anxiously, and everyone on their level of the dropship was listening curiously. 

“That's the secret they locked you up to keep, isn't it?” asked Finn and Clarke nodded even though he couldn't see her. 

“My dad was the engineer who discovered the failure. He thought everyone had the right to know our home is dying. The Council disagreed. Including my mother. So they called him a traitor, and floated him. I'd sided with him, so I got thrown into solitary.” she explained darkly.

The land was rough, yet, Clarke thought victoriously, they'd made it to earth with all one hundred (and one) alive. Now my chance begins, thought the young medic. 

“Listen. No machine hum.” announced Monty in awe. 

When they began rushing to the lower level, Clarke allowed herself to merely be swept along with the rest, and Octavia had already rushed over to her brother by the door by the time Clarke's feet hit the lower level. 

“What the hell are you wearing? A guard's uniform?” asked Octavia angrily. 

She ignored the Blake siblings' little reunion, and immediately took up a spot near the dropship's door trying to pry the bracelet off after tying her jacket around her waist. 

“Why so serious, Princess? Not like the bracelet's got a self-destruct button.” joked Finn. 

“What are you doing?” asked Wells urgently, earning a glare, and getting plenty of attention. That's actually helpful, Wells, thought Clarke ironically. 

“The Council will think anyone who stops transmitting is dead. My mother deserves this.” snapped the blonde with a set jaw and squared up shoulders. 

“You're going to break your wrist.” pointed out Finn. 

“Help or shut up.” snapped Clarke flatly, and Finn smirked at her before finding a piece of metal to pry it off of her. By the time she'd gasped as it finally broke off, too many of the one hundred were watching already. 

“Weapons are great, but a wall would be good too.” remarked Clarke shortly, but Bellamy looked her over before nodding gruffly. 

“We've got to get to Mount Weather for supplies.” insisted the chancellor's son earnestly, and Clarke heaved a deep sigh. 

“Do whatever you want, but I'm not going anywhere near anywhere the chancellor says we have to. They dropped us on the wrong damn mountain, but we can make this spot work anyway.” announced the blonde medic firmly. 

“Wouldn't have thought I'd agree with the princess, but she's right. We need to work on this spot, not going on a goose chase.” drawled Bellamy, still in his stolen guard's wear. 

“My father said-” began Wells but Clarke cut him off before the others could. 

“Your dad killed my dad, Wells. It was my mom's fault, but your dad is still the one who did it. Pick a side already. Anyway trying to follow Theolonius' orders here is more likely to get you killed though seeing as he's not here and never has been.” argued his old best friend gruffly, knowing all eyes were now upon them yet again. 

“They'll be coming down in two months.” countered Wells.

“That gives us two months to get ready. I don't know about everyone else, but I don't care about being pardoned. They still locked us up, then dropped us off the Ark! Not like I'm going to be joining back up with them whenever they show up.” stated Clarke loudly as she glared at Wells' oh so honest face. Some of the rowdier kids began yelling their agreement, but Clarke wasn't finished with her oldest friend. “Truth is, the council's right. I'm not loyal to them, but I never betrayed the people of the ark. And now I'm picking a side- the people I came down here with. You need to make up your mind, and fast.” 

His fists clenched, and Wells looked upwards to the sky where everything he knew remained before he met Clarke's deep blue eyes again. 

“With you. It's always going to be you.” he slowly but fervently decided, and Clarke nodded firmly. 

“Then we're going to make a life without the council.” she warned, and though he closed his eyes, he nodded anyway. 

“I'm going look for water and medical or edible plants, and see if there are any animals around. Anyone coming with me?” yelled Clarke above the din.

There was Wells immediately stepping closer to her side, Finn jumping down off the dropship cheerfully, Octavia practically flying over to them, and Monty and Jasper curiously scurrying over. Clarke saw Charlotte off to the side, watching warily, and even though she knew the kid was actually staring at Wells...

“You, Charlotte, right? Want to come?” called the eldest blonde, and the younger girl ducked her head but shuffled over. 

“I was a medical apprentice. Are there any others here, or medics?” yelled Clarke to the group, which shuffled around a bit but no one came forwards. “Alright, then, I'm going to make the lower level of the dropship into a med bay. I'm certainty not a doctor, but I'll do what I can as needed.” 

While Finn, Wells, Jasper, Monty, Octavia and Charlotte waiting in a chattering, awkward little huddle, Clarke carefully approached Murphy, where he stood with several others, quickly shaping weapons. 

“Murphy?” she asked quietly, trying cautiously to hit the right notes with the single most volatile member of the one hundred. 

“What, Princess?” snapped the boy without looking up from where he was fastening a makeshift spear. 

“Some of us are going look for water, and useful plants. See if there are any animals around. Are there enough weapons yet for us to bring one along?” asked the blonde calmly. 

Murphy finally looked up to glare at her. “Who's going?” he snapped irritably, scowling even worse when Clarke nodded her head towards the little waiting expedition party. 

“Spacewalker, a couple of geeks, girl who lived under the floor, and a little kid, plus you princess? Not like any of you could even use a weapon if you brought it.” muttered the scowling boy disdainfully. 

“I know dozens of ways to kill with a scalpel, so a knife shouldn't be that much different.” retorted Clarke calmly, and Murphy's eyes shifted back to her while he gave a cruel little smirk that was so familiar. 

Still smirking, he pulled out a knife, Clarke recognized it with a shock from her dreams- the knife that had killed Wells, and handed it over carelessly. 

Bellamy was arguing with his sister about going by now, though he turned his glare upon Clarke quickly enough.

“Bring someone else with you.” snapped the former guard cadet shortly, drawing eyes to him. 

“Don't want to take anyone away from the weapons or the wall.” explained Clarke briefly, already turning around. 

Only a quick look around revealed to him the same thing Clarke had noticed- the only ones not working on either projects were the youngest kids, and some of the oldest girls, whom had stationed themselves in a huddle where they could watch all the goings on. 

“Murphy, you've shown enough people what to do. Go with them. Make sure nothing happens to my sister, and our only medic. Bring back some food.” demanded the eldest of them, and Murphy scowled again, throwing down the spear he'd been fashioning but snatching up a finished one. 

Clarke glanced over at the oldest girls, whom were all sixteen except for a couple seventeen year olds if her dreams were right, and then met Bellamy's glinting eyes again. 

“Unless we're all going to sleep in the dropship, we're going to need some form of shelter. That group and the youngest boys could work on tents.” she suggested distractedly. Bellamy's eyes flicked back to the knot of chattering girls but by the time he looked back to Clarke, she was already returning to the waiting party, Murphy grudgingly on her heels. 

The two boys shared an unpleasant look, but Murphy followed them anyway. 

Tromping through the forest that she'd called home before, for Clarke's theory that the dreams were just vivid dreams caused by isolation, had been crushed, she deftly maneuvered around the landscape, letting the others chatter wash over her. 

This trip, though, did not go as her dreams had shown her. Chaos theory, at work, thought Clarke firmly, as she quickly used torn strips of a t-shirt and a small, cut branch to split to Murphy's broken wrist. He was sitting there, in grim surprise, that he'd both managed to kill a panther and break his wrist doing it. 

Charlotte was hovering over, watching Clarke at work, as an idea struck her.

“I'm not a doctor.” Clarke reminded them all quietly. “But I basically grew up in the phoenix med bay and when my mother took on a new apprentice when I was twelve, she taught me alongside him, except for the actual OR surgeries where I didn't have clearance to go into till I passed my med assistant exam. But they only use the OR for the longest, most invasive procedures, which we don't have the supplies for anyway down here. I passed the med assistant exam when I was 16, but I was going for a doctorate so I wasn't anywhere near finished with my apprenticeship when I got locked up.”

“Is this really life story time, Princess?” snapped Murphy darkly, and she just smirked at him lightly. 

“It's more reassurance that I'm not going to fuck up your arm, actually.” she announced calmly. “Since I started doing splints back when I had to stand on a stool to reach patients sitting on the exam tables.” 

Murphy glared back at her, but Clarke could have sworn his shoulders loosened up a bit. 

“At least it's my left.” muttered the stormy faced boy grimly.

“You've got to let it heal, though, and let me know about any changes in how it feels. Without x-rays, I'll need to work purely based on feel. I think a month splinted is the minimum you're looking at.” murmured Clarke more quietly to him. 

“You've got to be shitting me.” snapped Murphy.

Clarke shook her head. “It's the worst time for an injury, but it could get so much worse if you don't keep it splinted.” 

“And you made the first kill of the camp!” announced Octavia brightly, making Murphy's eyes flick towards her with an assessing gaze, but when the others joined in congratulating him, he simmered lower into less of a storm. 

“Alright, well, we have food, we've found some useful plant-life at least, and we found water, even if we can't really carry much of it back. We should head back, and figure out what to do about water.” announced the blonde firmly.

Murphy stalked back to camp, leading the way, while Finn and Monty carried the panther between them just behind him, Jasper and Octavia following closely, with Clarke and Charlotte close behind, leaving Wells to bring up the rear. 

“I don't have time to teach everyone, but I'll let anyone who's interested watch and learn. Though....” she trailed off hesitantly for a moment before continuing more confidently. 

“Well, like I said, I'm not a doctor, but I'd still not mind taking on an apprentice... if you want, that is.” 

“Me?” asked the youngest of their number blankly.

“Yea, you know, one medic for a hundred people isn't enough, and if anything happens to me, then they'd be without a medic at all the way it is now...” pointed out Clarke gently. 

“Which means, you really shouldn't be running around risking yourself Princess.” joked Finn teasingly, but she ignored it. 

“It won't be like an apprenticeship on the Ark, but it'd mean you'd have to really listen to me, and be patient, considering the circumstances, you know?” continued Clarke quietly, but Charlotte's wide blue eyes were pleading, and she'd nodded frantically. 

“I will, I promise!” the young girl vowed, her whole face so open and pleading that Clarke felt something shift as if inside her, knowing she'd made the right decision here. 

“Good. Stay close to me, then. You never know when a medic will be needed, or when there's a chance to learn something.” stated Clarke gently, getting another fervent nod from the young girl. 

“We're the oldest and youngest of the one hundred, you know? Besides, Bellamy, but he's the one hundredth and one.” announced Clarke a bit more lightly as they continued walking. 

“Which is funny since there's so few girls.” added Jasper curiously. 

“About thirty of us, huh? Maybe less.” murmured Clarke. 

“The girls are mostly older too, it looked like....” added Monty hesitantly as he hefted the panther along with Finn. 

“Girls don't get thrown into Skybox as often.” grumbled Murphy loudly from the front. 

“I wonder how they choose us though.” stated Clarke causally. 

“What do you mean? The criminals are the expendable population, right?” joked Jasper. 

“Yea, but it's not like there was just a perfectly round number of one hundred of us. How'd they pick us from the rest of Skybox?” pointed out Clarke. 

Silence fell across the group as that sunk in slowly.

“Most of the group is about 14-15, aren't they? Which doesn't make sense... you'd think more of us would be older.” muttered Finn thoughtfully. 

“But most of the girls more like 16 or 17.” muttered Octavia. 

“They kept Skybox sex-segregated, even for recreation time. Could be, ah, they thought sending older girls with mostly younger boys would be, heh, wise.” pointed out Jasper. 

“What happened to the rest of Skybox then....” wondered Monty. 

“There were like two hundred cells... even if it wasn't totally full... where's the rest?” asked Jasper. 

“Early floating maybe... especially of the oldest boys of Skybox.” suggested Clarke grimly. “If they can decided to drop us down here, they could decide to float minors at will.” 

“That dropship couldn't have held many more people anyway.” pointed out Octavia.

“Floating teenagers probably isn't that different than floating their parents anyway.” muttered Murphy.

“My parents got floated too.” stated Charlotte quietly. 

“My mom.” added Octavia blithely. 

“My father.” grunted Murphy. 

“About half of the group had their parents floated before they got locked up, I bet.” muttered Finn.

“Which is just another reason we shouldn't be waiting around for the council to come down and take over us again.” announced Clarke firmly. 

“Clarke, you know you need them if we're going to survive down here.” pleaded Wells.

“If we can manage to survive the two months till they get here, no, we don't.” snapped the blonde sharply. “Anyone who wants to go back to them can, but I'd rather die on our own than go back to that. The Exodus charter is even worse than life on the Ark, you know that!” 

Charlotte, Octavia, and Murphy all immediately added their individual agreements, ranging from Charlotte's soft little me too, to Murphy's snarling rebellion, and Octavia's cheerful little “fuck them!”. 

“I'll stay with you. But how are we going to survive alone? We should at least go to Mt. Weather.” argued Wells. 

“That's a hundred year old hope, it could have caved in for all we know, and if not, then it might as soon as we start stomping through it, considering it's been untouched for a century after nuclear war!” snapped Clarke hotly. 

We are not going anywhere near the Mountain Men yet! Thought the blonde frantically. 

“Look, we barely stepped out of our little campsite and had dinner throw itself at us. We'll be fine as long as stick together!” added Octavia helpfully. 

“Octavia's right. We need to stick together. This is our people now.” stated Clarke, and Charlotte nodded quickly along. 

Some of the boys were eyeing the girls thoughtfully, and quietly, though Murphy was mostly ignoring them, and Wells looked aghast. 

“Especially us girls need to stick together. I didn't realize how few of us there were.” muttered Octavia under her breath, flicking a look back to the blondes following behind her. 

“Let's see how the whole tent idea is working out when we get back. Charlotte, you should share with me, and Octavia, you too, if you want.” 

“Yes!” exclaimed the dark haired girl enthusiastically. “Like a sleepover! I never had one of those. Unless you count my brother which was like a horrible, never-ending sleepover....” laughed the girl. 

“Never had one either.” laughed Clarke quietly. 

“Me neither.” muttered Charlotte. 

“Besides, if not my brother will probably try to make me share with him.” added Octavia grimly. 

“We should get all the girls together actually... There's some stuff to figure out down here.” murmured Clarke quietly to Octavia who grimaced but nodded, while Charlotte looked curious and Jasper sped up a bit to leave the girls a little behind. Wells seemed to be trailing them slower as well, noted Clarke in amusement. 

“What we need is to establish some form of authority if you really don't want to wait for the council.” announced Wells firmly, but the entire group scoffed at him. 

“Yea, right, with you as chancellor of earth, right?” yelled back Murphy angrily.

“No, no, I mean, like a council I guess.” defended Wells quickly, and Octavia made a sound like an angry cat. 

“That's a dirty word here, Wells.” muttered Clarke wearily. “Nobody locked up by the council wants to restart that hell. You and Bellamy are the only ones who chose this, don't foget that.” 

“But we need a leader or there will be chaos.” insisted Wells earnestly, and Clarke just sighed at him. 

“Communal decisions would be fine.” suggested Finn brightly.

“Clarke's the oldest, right? So she should be the leader.” chirped Octavia uncaringly.

“Yea!” added Charlotte from Clarke's side quickly. 

Clarke sighed at them all. “I don't care who calls themselves leader, I care about the group and what needs to be done.” 

“Which makes you the perfect kindly overlord!” joked Jasper cheerfully. 

“Nah, she's the princess.” added Finn brightly.

Clarke felt like she'd be sighing a lot. Somehow in all the time she'd had to think about this, she'd never considered how it would feel like she's was terribly older than them. Those terrible nine months she'd dreamed of every night, reliving it constantly, had made her feel so much older than these fresh, shiny versions of her “old” friends. 

“I'll do whatever I can for us.” she stated calmly. “But everyone else needs to as well. Everyone should work for the common good, and we'll figure out that as a group. But Bellamy is really the oldest here, plus he was training to be a guard, right?” 

At Octavia's curt nod, Clarke continued. “So if anything, then he and I should... work together, I guess.” 

“Well, you two are the oldest.” agreed Jasper causally.

“And probably have the most useful training- medical and security.” added Monty pleasantly. 

“Great, share the power and rule together. You can keep him out of my hair.” concluded Octavia happily, drawing some laughter, though not from everyone, as they neared the camp.

“That's if he doesn't kill me to keep me out of the way.” muttered Clarke grimly, remembering how terribly she and Bellamy had gotten along in the earliest of her memories. 

“Cry if he doesn't listen to you.” suggested Octavia instantly, but Clarke sputtered.

“No way!” she gasped in horror. “Cry in front of him! Ugh.”

Octavia laughed, though she quietened down quickly when the camp came into sight. 

A wall was starting to take shape, with what looked like most of the one hundred busily working on it, dragging logs and scrap metal off the ship into place. Bellamy was barking orders, even as he worked alongside the lot, and he turned to watch them approach.

“We've got dinner!” yelled Finn cheerfully, but Clarke nudged her way to the front of the group quickly as cheers broke out through the working kids. 

“Murphy made the first kill for us!” she announced proudly, and the boy in question flushed a bit under his scowl at her. “And broke his wrist protecting us from that panther.” 

“Brought water and plants and stuff too.” added Octavia cheerfully. “What's up with these tents?” 

“We've already got two kids with cuts. They're in the dropship.” barked the eldest of their camp towards Clarke. 

“Octavia, can you help with the tents? Maybe see if you can get a space for the three of us, as close to the dropship as possible. Finn, Monty, see if you can get that panther stripped and cooked. Jasper, can you distribute the water, make sure everyone gets some? We'll go back for more tomorrow, but it'll be dark soon. Wells, I need those plants and a thing of water in the dropship. Murphy, c'mon into the dropship, I'll see if there's anything else I can do for your wrist. Charlotte, you too.” stated Clarke quickly and clearly, and was rather surprised when everyone did as she'd said without hesitation. 

As she lead the mismatched trio of the sulking Murphy, anxious Charlotte, and stoic Wells into the dropship after the others had started off on their own tasks, she met Bellamy's eyes across the camp, his face was thoughtful so she simply nodded to him briefly before hurrying into the makeshift med bay. 

Eyeing the two kids, looking a little pale and worried, sitting on the floor near the door, Clarke snapped to work, kneeling down in front of them. 

“Wells, get some of that seaweed ready, now. Then I need some pain relief for them both and Murphy too. Charlotte, go watch how he does it so you can do it next time.” she ordered quietly. 

Bellamy entered the ship as Clarke had already begun stitching the worst off of the kids, while Murphy sat unhappily in line beside the kid with the shallower cut, and Charlotte miserably watched Wells' hastily prepare the few plants into herbal remedies. 

“So, you taking care of them, Princess?” asked the default leader of their camp grimly.

“Atom doesn't need to use this hand for a few days at least. A week would be better, and it's his dominant hand so he's out of commission for both the weapons and wall. Harper'll be fine tomorrow as long as she doesn't put much pressure on hers. Murphy's wrist is broken, he needs to keep it splinted for a month easily and to let it rest while it heals. All three will need light chores only- they could carry water, but not hunting.” replied Clarke coolly. 

“No one else got hurt on your little exploring trip?” asked Bellamy shortly.

“If they did, I'd have them in here too.” snapped Clarke quietly. “But Octavia's fine, if that's what you are asking.” 

“She said she's claimed a tent for you, her and your apprentice?” challenged Bellamy relentlessly. 

Clarke didn't reply, working to carefully stitch up Atom's hand. 

“Well?” insisted Bellamy.

“Yea, ok, so what? The three of us are going to share a tent.” muttered Clarke distractedly. 

“Why?” asked Bellamy shortly, and Clarke shot him a baffled glare.

“Because there are maybe thirty girls to at least seventy guys, and there's no way there's enough material to make individual tents for all hundred of us. We'd rather share with each other than wind up crowded in with some guys.” snapped Clarke defensively. 

“There's only thirty-one girls.” muttered Bellamy. 

“See? Thirty-one girls to seventy guys. At least Octavia and I feel like we'd be more comfortable sticking together, and I want Charlotte with us for sure. Don't think there's any girls her age anyway.” muttered Clarke as she turned back to Atom's hand, running her fingers gently across her work to be sure. 

“Yea, ok, but what's this about an apprentice?”replied Bellamy, drawing a sigh from Clarke, which she felt like she'd been doing little else than since she'd woken up on the dropship. 

“Apparently there's no one else here with any medical training so I need another set of hands.” she explained shortly.

“And just how much training do you have? They said you were in the Skybox for a year, and you're what, sixteen?” demanded the former guard cadet. 

“I basically grew up in the med bay. Learned alongside my mother's apprentice from when I was twelve. Became an official med apprentice at 15. Passed the medic assistant exam at 16, which the earliest you can take it by the way, and continued my apprenticeship for the nine months afterwards til I was arrested fourteen months ago. And actually I'll be eighteen next month.” bit out Clarke in annoyance. 

“Well, my hand looks much better.” added Atom jokingly, drawing their attention back to him. “So she's got my vote to be the camp doctor.” 

Clarke laughed quietly at him, moving along to Harper. 

“My arm doesn't fucking hurt as much.” muttered Murphy halfheartedly. 

Wells walked up slowly, handing Clarke a blob of the seaweed, and looking at the floor rather than the people.

“Clarke was considered a med prodigy.” he added quietly. 

“Only because my mother was training me to be a doctor from the time I could walk.” muttered Clarke darkly. 

Wells shook his head, but retreated back to the corner he'd been working in. 

“No, it's not. Most kids wouldn't have picked it up like you did. Most kids wouldn't have even be able to watch all of that.” he countered gravely, but Clarke just ignored him to work on Harper's hand. 

“I'll do what I can, but I'm not a doctor.” repeated Clarke grimly. “Charlotte, come here and clean this-” she instructed, ignoring the rest, including Bellamy. 

“Clarke! I've got us a tent right outside here!” announced Octavia as she darted into the ship threw the makeshift curtains Clarke had Wells put up. “Enough room for the three of us!” 

“O, you can sleep in my tent.” cut in Bellamy immediately.

But Octavia's scrunched up her nose and shook her head. “No, thanks, big brother, I'll stick with the girls.” 

“Why not put all of the girls close together?” suggested Harper thoughtfully. 

“That'd be good. O, why don't you go suggest it to the others.” announced Clarke quickly. 

Octavia grinned before bounding out the dropship with all the energy of a puppy, with Bellamy following grimly in her wake. 

It wasn't until she'd shuffled Atom, smirking at her, Harper, who'd said she was going move her tent to besides Clarke's, and a narrow-eyed Murphy out of the dropship and cleaned up a bit that Clarke lead Charlotte out to the fire, with Wells trailing them. 

Bellamy, Octavia, Monty, Jasper, Finn, Atom, Murphy, Miller, and Monroe were loosely grouped together near the fire, and several of them waved Clarke over. 

As soon as she got close enough, Finn jumped up, waving a stick with a hunk of roasted meat at her. 

“I saved you some food!” announced the bright eyed boy eagerly, shoving it into her hand. 

Clarke smiled briefly, but immediately handed it to Charlotte instead of taking a bite before nudging her over to where Octavia had made room for the kid with a smile. The youngest of them looked anxious and unsure sitting between the flashy Octavia and Monty, but nibbled at her ration hesitantly anyway. She noticed that at least half the kids had broken their bracelets off already. 

“Thanks, but I want to make sure everyone gets something to eat at least.” countered the blonde medic shortly. 

“There's still some more, but only cause Bellamy's got a group watching the wall making sure no more panthers show up for the party.” explained Jasper lightly. 

“How many guys?” asked Clarke.

“Five, why?” asked Bellamy grudgingly.

“They need to eat too. I'm going to bring them some.” explained Clarke, turning away. 

“I'll do it so you can go ahead and eat.” offered Monroe, standing up quickly. 

“Thanks. We need to save Harper some too. She said something about moving her tent.” replied Clarke, accompanying the other girl towards the fire, with Wells still trailing behind. 

“I'm sharing with her and Fox.” offered Monroe friendly. 

“Well, we'll be neighbors then because when Harper heard Octavia, Charlotte and I are sharing, she decided to move next to us, by the dropship's door. We were thinking the girls should stick together down here since there's so few of us.” replied Clarke causally. 

“Works for me. Maybe we can get the other girls to move their tents too...” wondered Monroe easily as they started grabbing meat. 

“I'll bring Harper some. Thanks for bringing it to the guys on watch. They should get some before anyone else decides to get extra.” murmured the blonde firmly. 

“No problem.” answered Monroe, walking off towards the wall with five sticks of meat in hand and a smile on her face. 

Clarke had grabbed one for herself and another for Harper, before Wells grabbed one too. There was only a couple pieces left, she realized, and stopped. 

“Besides Harper and the guys on watch, has anyone else not gotten a serving?” yelled Clarke over the noise of a hundred chatting kids, who slowly shook their heads. 

“Good. Until we get better at hunting, rations will be slim, and we need to remember that everyone needs to get a share.” she called out again, listening to the various scattered agreements for only a beat before heading towards the two lone tents by the dropship's door.

Harper came out of the second tent as Clarke approached, with Wells still on her heels, and Clarke offered the kebab out with a smile.

“Brought you some before the guys finished it off.” she explained lightly before taking a quick bite of her own now. 

The group left behind went back to chattering, though Atom grumbled about Wells.

“So is Jaha like her bodyguard, or pet?” asked the boy with the thickly bandaged hand courtesy of Clarke. 

“Follows her like a dog, and gets ignored anyway. Must be a naughty pet.” muttered Murphy sarcastically. 

“They were friends before she got locked up, plus his dad floated hers, so I'd say she has plenty of reasons to have a complicated relationship with him.” snapped Octavia hotly. 

Harper and Clarke, with Wells still silently trailing behind, rejoined the group by the fire. These were the ones Clarke had known best from the one hundred, she thought painfully. Somehow Clarke had ended up sitting between Bellamy and Wells, unpleasantly, while Harper had laughed but taken Monroe's seat, who sat the other end of the group when she returned, joking about how popular she was with the guys on watch now. 

Apparently she'd already spread the word about the girls claiming their own area, closest to the dropship, because Clarke soon saw several other tents being awkwardly set up near hers. Bellamy appeared to be brooding, to Clarke's familiar eye, and she was content to sit quietly, listening to the group's excited, tired, voices. Dark was quickly pressing down upon the camp, and everyone was too exhausted to be as rowdy as she remembered. Spirits were still high though. 

“Sunrise is probably going to wake a lot of people, I don't think the tents will block it out very well.” murmured Clarke quietly, only noticed by the boy on either side of her, Wells simply nodded, lost in thought still, but Bellamy grunted an acknowledgment. 

“They won't like, but we should probably try to get everyone to get some sleep. Not yet, but in a couple hours at least.” she continued quietly, this time Bellamy grunted in annoyance. 

“We're setting bedtime now?” he asked sarcastically. 

Clarke sighed. “It'll be hard for anyone to get any sleep as long as others are up messing around.” 

“We're not their parents.” bit out Bellamy. 

“No, but we are the oldest- you especially. We should be looking out for them.” countered Clarke curtly. 

“I did not sign up to play dad for a hundred kids.” bit out Bellamy. 

“No, but you want them to follow you, don't you?” she asked knowingly, and he gave her a hard, searching look. 

“So, what, Princess, I'm in charge just like that?” he asked sardonically but she just smirked at him. 

“Oh, not just you, you're not. Absolute power and all that.” she murmured back velvety soft, and he actually returned the smirk. 

“We can give them tonight, and then tomorrow when everyone's awake at dawn with the sun and miserable because they stayed up all night, then we'll set a bedtime. At least a quiet time.” she offered calmly. After a long, tense moment, he conceded with just a brief nod. 

Though Clarke and Bellamy agreed to leave the teenagers to their excitement at staying up late, Clarke hustled her new little apprentice to bed three hours after sunset. Charlotte had grumbled only for a moment, before curling up on the pitiful excuse for a pallet under Clarke's watchful eye. Only after the girl was asleep, worn out from hiking, carrying water, and the sheer adrenaline of the day, did Clarke emerge from the tent, to where the rest were still happily reveling in their newfound “freedom”. 

“Got your baby all tucked in?” asked Bellamy teasingly, and Clarke just laughed at him, seemingly surprising him and Octavia both. 

“She's a good kid, and too young to just be thrown to the wolves.” replied Clarke after she'd retaken her seat beside Bellamy. Wells had wandered off sometime while she was gone. 

“How old is she anyway?” asked the eldest of their number.

“Just made twelve a couple weeks ago. Was in Skybox for two years.” replied Clarke grimly. 

Laughter drew their attention to the rest of their group, and they saw Octavia smirking, while Atom looked red faced but pleased. Bellamy began to harp on his little sister, and Clarke tuned them out, thinking over the differences of today, and the first day she “remembered”. It was so terribly odd to compare them. If Clarke understood this at all, things would only continue to become more different from her memories, as even little changes caused ripples... 

Octavia stood up to storm off after rowing with her brother, and Clarke thoughtful stood up to follow. But only after running a hand softly along Bellamy's arm and giving him a light smile, which he blinked at The blonde had thought the “old” warrior girl wanted to vent and rant, but the moment she slipped through the flaps, Octavia had remembered the sleeping young girl. Biting her tongue, she nodded meaningfully at the remaining space, leaving one side of Charlotte free for Clarke, but taking the other side. 

When the younger blonde began to whimper in her sleep, both of the older girls shifted closer to her still lost in sleep so that Charlotte quietened down without waking up.


	4. Day Six

Chapter 4 

Day Six 

Between the threat of a panther strolling up to their tents and the looming shadow of the Council's arrival, there wasn't much force required to get camp set up and chore crews in place. Wells was the single member of their number not dreading the upcoming presence. Being outvoted one hundred to one didn't seem to quell his eagerness, but with a single sharp look, Clarke could. 

Knowing Bellamy as well as she secretly did, he was no true obstacle this time. All she had to do was offhandedly make a suggestion, and voila, he was soon enough barking out the orders. It certainly hadn't been this easy the first time around. Then again they'd hadn't been united against a common outright enemy then. She'd still been on Team Ark, pitting herself against the de facto leader, whereas now she was simply advising him on how best to defy the Ark. 

Frankly Wells was a bit more to manage, but her patience was bolstered by the utter relief at his existence. Just as she remembered from those short days of another life, he was a hard, uncomplaining worker. All Clarke had to do was keep him busy working for the camp's good since that apparently went miles for halting his arguing the case for reconciliation with the council. The little blonde hellcat, as Murphy grumbling called her, didn't realize it was more her hold over the chancellor's son and less the exhausting task of survival that was silencing him. 

Thanks to her suggestion, everyone was officially assigned a job, and Bellamy and Clarke had stood shoulder-by-shoulder when they laid down the first law of the one hundred camp early their first morning. “If you don't work, you don't eat.” Bellamy had declared harshly, and the little blonde princess had nodded coldly in agreement. “We can discuss job rotation eventually, but we will for the foreseeable future need every single hand working for our survival.” she'd explained coolly to the nearly hundred faces gazing at them. 

There were four watch crews of five each that alternated shifts. Then there were the two water crews of ten each, lead respectively by Finn and Wells, that alternated the time consuming task of keeping the camp supplied with the greatest necessity. Then two hunting crews of five apiece- one went out in the morning, the other in the afternoon. Ten people were assigned to food- the prep, cooking, and the little preserving they could do. “Winter is coming.” reminded Clarke every day. A single crew of six-the camp crew- was tasked with the more random chores- tending the fire, setting up wash stations, dealing with the hides they collected from hunting, etc. Clarke had argued Bellamy into forming a thirty-person building crew to first continue the wall, and hopefully soon begin building a log cabin, though that would be a massive project...

This left Bellamy, Clarke, Charlotte, Monty, and Jasper the only ones not on an official crew, until Jasper playfully dubbed them the “dropship crew”. It truthfully suited well enough since Clarke had turned the lower level into the med bay, and Monty and Jasper randomly alternated between assisting her with herbal prep, and tinkering with the electronics hopefully on the upper level. Bellamy seemed to be everywhere from the watches to the hunting parties to making sure the food prep was being done carefully. At least once a day, Clarke would announce she was going out for a gathering trip. Though she'd try to leave on her own invariably she was accompanied by the others of the dropship crew. They'd trump back with hauls of all kinds including every kind of plant Monty could name, and soft moss for bedding. There was always a need for more sticks to feed their fire. At night, whoever was on watch tended to it so that they never let it die. The girls area had two rows of tents, back to back. Days passed, in exhausting, harried speed, and every member of the hundred were alive. They were even relatively well-fed- though their diet of roasted meat and berries alone was already getting old. She and Bellamy were working together in a startlingly peacefully partnership, though he seemed constantly unnerved by her, and Charlotte had become Clarke's devoted little shadow. Octavia had yelled her brother down in order to be on a hunting crew. Murphy, Miller, Atom and Harper respectively leading the watch crews. Every night ended up with them gathering around the fire closely, and soon enjoying the moonshine from Jasper and Monty's efforts. On day two, she'd quietly suggested a “keep them busy, keep them out of trouble” philosophy for running the camp. While Bellamy had scoffed at the idea to her face it certainly seemed as if he was following it anyway. As the camp healer, Clarke had been busy enough with patients, but apart from a couple scuffles among the younger boys, all the injuries had been accidental. Suddenly putting handmade weapons and tools into the hands of utterly unprepared adolescents, and tasking some of them with the creation of more was bound to result in multiple injuries no matter how she tried to avoid it though. Discretely, she passed on what knowledge she could. Despite her efforts to be low-key with her teaching, the kids were beginning to eye her with a growing sense of awe that she mistook for suspicion. 

As the sun had barely begun to lighten the gloom of their tent, Clarke woke up on their fifth morning on earth, stretching. She fondly looked over her pair of tentmates. Both slept curled up like puppies, and despite there being – just barely- enough room for each girl to have her own, narrow space, they were entangled with each other by morning. Silently, Clarke pulled her boots and jacket on. With an automatic caution, she retrieved Murphy's knife from under the moss filled bag she'd made into a pillow to slip into her pocket. Finally, she gentled stroked a hand across the youngest girl's face so that two sets of blue eyes met. Charlotte blinked sleepily up at her. 

“I'll be back later, don't worry.” she instructed the young girl who just nodded. Silently, Charlotte watched her mentor leave before snuggling back up to the third resident of their tent. 

Clarke stretched again once outside the tent before striding confidently towards the gate. Atom and his four crew members had just come on-shift at dawn, and the crew leader always manned the gate. He frowned at her as she smoothly walked up and told him to open it. 

“You're not going out alone?” asked Atom sleepily. 

“Open the gate, Atom.” she said firmly, but quietly enough that no one else could hear. 

He grimaced at her, and nodded tellingly in the direction of Bellamy's tent- which was the one closest to the girls- who'd all set up in a row along with Clarke's, and a row behind, while Bellamy set up directly across, though out of the way of the ship's door. 

He hadn't allowed anyone to set up beside him either, but the boys had made their numerous long rows behind his. The row directly behind Bellamy was just four across, and held Monty and Jasper's tent, Finn and Wells' (at Clarke's quiet request), Murphy and Mbege's, and Miller and Atom's. The rest of the boys were divided into fifteen tents, in three long rows, with about four boys per tent, closely grouped.

“Bellamy won't like it.” insisted Atom darkly.

“Tell him I said to take it up with me, not the watchers.” she ordered flatly, and grudgingly under her glare Atom opened up the gate just enough for her to slip through. 

“I can come with you.” offered the gateman as a last ditch effort to avoid Bellamy's wrath, but she shook her head shortly. 

“My apprentice can do simple wound care, and Finn can find me if need be. I'll be back soon enough.” she stated shortly as she already striding off. 

Only once she was far out of hearing range, and totally assured that no one had followed her on Atom's direction, did Clarke begin looking up carefully through the trees. 

“Lincoln kom Trikru?” she called knowingly, and there was nothing but still silence until she'd repeated herself three times. 

With a gentle thud, Lincoln landed behind her, and Clarke calmly turned around to face him. 

“How do you know my name?” asked the young Trikru warrior gravely, and Clarke smiled at him wistfully.

She hadn't seen his execution in her memories, but she'd heard of it, and it had stuck with her. This was a man she'd claimed as her people, yet he'd died with a bullet to his head by others she'd tried to call hers. Not again. Maybe she couldn't save him, but she wouldn't ever call his murderers her people. 

“Pike should die if we want a better chance...” Clarke mentally shook off the idea as it distracted her. 

“I am Clarke kom Skaikru, the healer and one of the leaders of our people. As you've seen, we are young, I am the second-eldest, and have not yet made eighteen years. My apprentice is our youngest who has just made twelve years. We were dropped here by the Arkadians to see if space-born people could survive on earth now.” 

Lincoln nodded grimly. 

“But as for how I know your name... sometimes, I just know things. Like I know you've been watching us, and something of your heart. I wish to call you an ally, and your people too. Tell Anya, and Lexa that the Skaikru renounce the others of the sky, and would pledge themselves to the kogeda.” continued Clarke solemnly, and event he stoic warrior looked stunned at her announcement. 

“I'm serious, and willing to swear it in blood. We, the hundred and one of us, come in peace, and were dropped into Trikru territory against our will. Others are coming, the ones who locked us up and forced us here as their experiment, but Skaikru has no loyalty to Arkadia now.” urged Clarke fervently. 

Lincoln remained frozen before her, eyes glinting in awe and confusion, a statute of the ideal grounder warrior, she thought proudly.

“Go.” urged Clarke again. “And Lincoln... her name is Octavia. She is special to Skaikru- the only second born child of our generation. Her brother is so protective of her because we do not even remember the last time someone had a sister to worry about. Let us make peace before you approach her, please, but then you have my blessing.” 

He startled slightly, before, with one last long look, took off, faster on his feet than Clarke could ever dream of being. 

Taking a deep breath, Clarke could only hope this would turn out better than the last time, and kept walking. Still not quite trusting her memories, she sought out the hidden bunker with the guns, and when she opened the container to see them, her heart lodged itself into her throat.

“It's all real.” she thought faintly. 

Her memories were correct about Finn's bunker as well, but she did not think Finn had found it yet, in this time. It appeared totally untouched, and she grinned widely at yet another evidence of the changes she'd brought. It was almost poetically fitting that when she was leaving the small bunker, that she heard the fog horn blow, and ducked back into the bunker to wait it out. Oddly, they had not heard it before today, and though Clarke had tried to carefully warn them about finding shelter if anything unusual happened... there was likely both a water crew and a hunting party out now. 

Memories proved correct, Clarke hurried back to the camp, the gate flung open as she approached, and there was Atom, wide-eyed and harried. As she came through the gate, he yelled over his shoulder into the camp. 

“Clarke's back, alone!” 

“What's going on?” she asked anxiously.

Bellamy appeared though, jaw clenched and temper up. 

“Acid fog.” he bit out coldly. “The hunting party was close enough to make it back to the dropship with the rest of us, and most of the water crew was able to wait it out in the water.” 

“Most?” asked Clarke flatly.

“Spacewalker had gone to take a piss before it came down, and they didn't see him again.” snapped Bellamy.

“Thought he might have met up with you.” added Atom quietly, meeting Clarke's eyes, and she realized he was remembering their conversation this morning. 

“I haven't seen anyone today since I left at dawn.” said Clarke, looking back through the gates. “I'm going look for him, if anyone else wants to come along.” 

Bellamy scowled but nodded, and yelled for several others to join up, even as Clarke was already walking away. They'd been walking near the path the water crews took to the spring when they heard a shrill scream suddenly, and Clarke knew. 

“Charlotte!” yelled Clarke frantically, taking off at run. 

“Dammit, Clarke! Wait!” growled Bellamy taking off after her, crashing through the forest. 

The young medic skidded into the tiny clearing, landing on her knees beside the scorched body of a boy she loved, ignoring her weeping apprentice standing just a foot away. Instinctively, she began humming quietly, and petting Finn's hair oh so gently, which is how Bellamy found her. 

“Take her back to camp, Bell.” ordered Clarke, and Bellamy looked between them desperately.

“Go, Bell, she's twelve for god's sake, get her back to camp.” demanded the elder blonde more frantically, and Bellamy bowed his head as he slung an arm around the medic's apprentice to steer her away.

“Princess?” murmured Finn faintly though his eyes stared up all clouded over and still. 

“Yea, Finn, yea, it's me.” whispered Clarke, as close as she could get without brushing his tormented skin. 

“I love you, Princess, and you're gonna be great, oh mighty Wanheda.” whispered the dying boy lovingly, but Clarke's entire being stuttered, gasping for breath so she could force out desperate words quickly enough. 

“Finn, you know? You know?” she demanded frantically.

“Yea, princess. Just... didn't want to mess up what was going so well.” muttered Finn weakly.

“I wish you'd told me. Oh, Finn, I wish you'd told me. You knew what the horn meant! Why?!” sobbed Clarke. 

“Give me a good-bye again.” whispered Finn brokenly. 

Bellamy reappeared, sans Charlotte, but he stayed back, watching with darkened, wide eyes, so Clarke ignored him completely. 

“Oh, Finn, no, Finn, I'm sorry, Finn, you're going to be ok. You're ok.” whispered Clarke desperately, though she pulled out her knife as she cuddled up to him, unable to hug him for his burns, but still wanting the closeness.

“I love you too.” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his lips, and plunging the knife into his heart. Again.

“Thanks, Princess.” he breathed out, and Clarke felt it- the limpness that grabbed him, and pulled back, unwilling to stay close once he was gone. 

Sitting back on her heels, Clarke looked down at her bloody knife. Murphy had told her to keep it after she'd splinted his arm. In another life, it'd been the knife Charlotte had stolen and killed Wells with. Now, Atom lived, Charlotte lived, and Clarke had used Murphy's knife to kill Finn, months before he should have died. Spacewalker, the first death of the one hundred, because she'd made too many changes. 

Chaos theory, Wanheda, chaos theory. Her eyes were glazed and Bellamy watched her warily. 

Slowly Clarke stood, and finally raised her head to meet Bellamy's gaze. 

“He told me he was in love with me, and all I could do was end his pain.” she stated barely above a whisper. 

Bellamy nodded gravely. 

“We'll bury him outside the wall.” she stated flatly, and he nodded again. 

“Wells took Charlotte back to camp. Miller and Murphy should be here in a minute. They were the closest. We'll carry him back.” he said slowly, and she nodded. 

“I... I need to get something ready.” she murmured brokenly, and turned haltingly away. The pretty, slight blonde healer stood there with her back to the dead and the leader for a long, silent moment before she could make herself walk away. 

Only once her footsteps had faded did Miller and Murphy appear in the clearing. 

“It killed him.” stated Murphy disgustedly.

“Yea, but Princess hurried it along.” replied Bellamy coolly. Only then did the other two noticed the dark blood stain they'd overlooked in the horror of the acid's toll. 

“She did it?” asked Miller slowly.

“He was begging for death.” snapped Bellamy shortly, and Miller threw up in hands in defense, but Bellamy continued, quieter at least. 

“He told her he loved her, then begged her to kill him. So the princess softened death with a kiss. What the hell are we going to do down here. We've come to hell.” Bellamy's words were hoarse and bitter.

“Didn't think she had it in her.” stated Murphy in surprise. 

“I think we've only just started to see what the princess is made of.” murmured Miller solemnly. 

“Yea.” grunted Bellamy in agreement. 

“That's gonna mess with her head bad though. He was as bad as Jaha following her around, and now she had to do this.” announced Miller, his voice thick with pity that Clarke probably would have clawed his eyes out for. 

“C'mon, let's get him back. She wants him buried just outside the wall.” announced the leader finally, and between the three of them, they carried Spacewalker back home to camp. 

Around the corner of the wall, away from the gate, Clarke stood, waiting, and when they laid Finn down far enough from the wall so they could dig, she disappeared into the woods again, though this time Charlotte and Murphy silently followed. 

With the grave dug, nine feet deep on Bellamy's order, Clarke jumped in, horrifying Bellamy but he choked back his words.

In the deep, narrow pit where they would lay a boy who'd loved her, she carefully spread out a bed of thick water moss. Once she was done, Bellamy silently hauled her back out again, his face tightly set and hands tight upon her, though she didn't notice. 

Clarke knelt beside Finn, pulling a hastily made salve from her meager supplies. With gentle fingers and blank expression, she smoothed the thick, greenish salve across his skin, even under his shirt, though she'd faltered over the lethal wound, leaving him smelling strongly of tea tree and mint. 

It took four of them, but they carefully lowered Spacewalker into the grave under Clarke's cold blue gaze.

Charlotte, Octavia, Harper, Monroe, and Fox all returned again this time with flowers, and handfuls of lavender, dropping them slowly into the grave, and still Clarke stood steady. The blonde young leader was the first to begin covering him up until she finally let Bellamy take over. Even then, she stayed, sitting beside the grave, solemnly watching every scoop of dirt land. 

“We knew each other before.” she murmured when the grave was nearly filled. 

“Yea?” muttered Bellamy tiredly without pausing in the grim task. 

“He had a girlfriend. He said he loved me anyway even back then. But he was all Raven had, and I couldn't take him away from her. Not that mattered now I guess. He got arrested, then dropped here, and now dead... When we came down... I couldn't let him too close. It would have hurt too much and now... I killed a boy who loved me.” revealed Clarke slowly, still staring down stiffly. 

“You saved him from hellish pain is what you did. Down here, princess, it's all you could do.” replied Bellamy harshly, and she flinched. 

“I'm not sure I can do this.” she said finally. 

“You don't get a choice. It's got to be done.” insisted Bellamy. 

She looked up at him slowly, and hesitantly, and this was not something Bellamy was used to from her. This blonde princess was all tough stoicism under pressure and blazing fire in a temper, a terror of a warrior princess, no meek and shy maiden.

“Together?” she asked hardly above a whisper, yet it felt like he'd been hit. 

Pulling himself together quickly, he nodded and murmured “yea, together” gruffly. 

Silently he finished, under her watchful eyes, and nodded his head back towards the camp. 

“Yea, you're right. Back to work...” she agreed thickly. “The dead are gone, and the living are hungry.” 

Her... partner grimaced at the words, but couldn't disagree with them.

With a brief attempt at a smile and a jerky wave, she sent him off to see to their remaining people. 

As Bellamy strode off grimly, leaving her sitting beside the fresh grave, he passed his sister coming out of the gate and heading towards Clarke. Grabbing her arm, he glowered at her, but it'd been a while since Octavia had backed down just from a look. 

“Leave her be.” he grunted at her harshly, and his sister's dark eyes narrowed at him. 

“First of all, get another search party ready because Miller did a headcount and we're missing two more people. Second of all, mind your own business, I'll go see my friend if I want to.” she snapped hotly. 

“Who's missing?” demanded Bellamy, all thoughts of the grieving medic pushed aside for the moment. 

“Two of the younger kids- Trina and Pascal. Camp crew, and the second water crew.” she replied grimly. 

“Dammit.” he swore absently, before throwing her once last glare. “She's on the edge, O, don't push her over.” he ordered before he went rushing back through the gates to deal with the latest crisis. Normally Clarke would be at his side, but there was no way he could bring the news to her yet. 

Muttering under her breath about arrogant bastards, Octavia continued around the corner to the new graveyard. 

There sat Clarke still, stiffly sitting vigil, with one hand laying limply upon the grave, eyes closed, and blood still on her shirt. Gathering herself, Octavia hurried to the grave and knelt opposite Clarke who simply opened her eyes. The blonde so-called princess had never been a lighthearted person, not in Octavia Blake's knowing at least, but even so the utter flat blankness was still unnerving in it's severity. 

Holding that empty gaze, Octavia laid one of her own hands upon the freshly turned earth and murmured quietly. 

“Yu gonplei ste odon.” 

It took a long, heavy moment, but she could actually see life stirring up again as Clarke's eyes sharpened. 

“Where did you hear that?” asked Clarke coldly. Oh, she was awake again, but there were plenty of reasons that the delinquents followed her and it wasn't about her patching up their boo-boos. The sheer steel of her was the biggest, in fact.

“Same place as you.” retorted Octavia snarkily, and the other girl's shoulders squared up ready for a fight... but even as her eyes grew darker, Clarke's hard face stayed set. 

“Oktavia kom Wonkru?” she asked coldly. 

Octavia grinned, fast and wide, as if they were not sitting on either side of a fresh grave of a seventeen year old boy they'd both cared for. 

“Yes, Wanheda.” answered the dark haired girl firmly. 

“Did you know about Finn too?” demanded Clarke. 

It took a moment for Octavia to realize what she meant, and then she shook her head hastily. 

“I wasn't even sure about you!” insisted Octavia. 

“Bellamy?” asked the other girl with an unmistakeable dose of hope in her otherwise grim demeanor. 

Octavia sobered up quickly as she shook her head in denial. 

“What's changed?” asked Clarke in that honestly creepily dead face. 

Octavia began her tale grimly. 

“I woke up just a couple days before the masquerade. It was so simple- just not go. I didn't, and everything was fine. Except I was back under the floor, Mom was back in the head guard's bed, and Bell was just trying so hard to make things better... We just kept going on how we always had, but I knew what was coming. It was such a last minute idea for them to bring down the whole Ark, and it's not like anyone from Factory could convince them to if it came down to that. Much less the girl under the floor.” 

The stoic girl, who looked so young and pretty again, but whom Clarke better remembered as a hard eyed warrior with painted face and bloody sword, paused here for a deep breathe. 

“It was basically a nightmare to found myself being that girl again. I let it get to me. With the Ark dying, and me not in lockup to be on the drop ship... Bell wouldn't be offered a way on... I didn't know what to do. So I told Mom. Everything.” continued Octavia slowly. 

Clarke's blue eyes finally showed some actual emotion- disbelief and surprise, but better than that blankness of before. 

“At first, I think she was pretty sure that sixteen years under the floor had finally made me snap. And she made me wonder about that too.” admitted the only second born child of their generation. 

“But slowly... she believed me. Bell was due to finish training and I got an idea.” Octavia took another deep, slow breathe. “We'd get Bell to slip us, all three of us, onto the dropship somehow. He had the clearance card, and the gun, and we could have... tried. Almost two months ago, Bell finished training and was sworn in. The next day, the head of the guards received a written tip from Bellamy. Having taken an oath to the security of the Ark, he could no longer live underneath his mother's illicit control. They raided our quarters that morning, and came straight to my hiding spot. She was floated, Bell managed to keep his job due to ratting her out, and I was only in Skybox for a few weeks. She'd slipped a note into my pocket, though, and I found it once I'd been put into a cell. In it.. well, she explained what she'd done. Forged the tip since she knew Bell wouldn't go along with her plan if she told him.” revealed Octavia gravely. 

“O, I'm so sorry.” whispered Clarke, but the other girl just shook it off. 

“And she wrote who my dad is. That she never told him about me. Just broke things off and stayed away.” Octavia watched as Clarke absorbed that last bit of information, waiting for the other girl to ask who it was, but the blonde had too many secrets of her own to pry. 

“Marcus Kane.” admitted Octavia finally, and now Clarke actually choked in a breathe. 

“Kane!” yelped Clarke. 

“She could have used his name, you know. He doesn't have another child, and he's a Counselor. If she'd used his name...” muttered Octavia.

“There must have been a reason she didn't.” realized Clarke.

“Earth changed him, but on the Ark... well, I get why she didn't try throwing herself to his mercy.” stated Octavia frankly.

“Yea, me too.” agreed the other girl. 

Octavia tried to shrug off the conversation. “So... so Finn came back or whatever too?” 

The abrupt change in topic washed away the little spirit the young medic had regained. A ragged sob tore itself from Clarke's throat, and she threw herself across the narrow grave at Octavia who caught her. Returning the embrace, Octavia felt more than heard the sobs. Only the dark haired girl seemed to hear the search party going out once again.

In her memory, she could remember Clarke humming when things were bad. Murphy had once, in another lifetime, commented dryly that you'd better kiss your ass good-bye if Clarke started humming to you. So Octavia began to hum because if Finn's grave wasn't the place for such misery then nowhere was. Clarke kept sobbing, and shaking, and Octavia had never seen such a breakdown from the stoic healer. It just kept going. Silent and wracking through them both because there was no way to hold someone through such misery without giving in yourself. 

Together they were crying for everyone they'd ever lost, every life they regretted taking, every choice that hadn't even been a choice... As her own tears eventually slowed, Octavia found herself quietly singing the tune she'd been humming- it was one her mother would sing faintly as she worked. By the time Clarke's shaking finally slowed to an end, Octavia could tell from the limpness that she'd cried herself to sleep. Or more honestly, the other girl had actually passed out from the sheer intensity of grief. 

What else was there to do but sit there? To hold Clarke and await the return of the search party?

Gently, Octavia laid the older girl down, so that only that blonde head remained in her lap. The fresh dirt of Finn's grave was soft enough, or perhaps Clarke was simply so burnt out that the movement didn't even make her stir. Mournfully Octavia thought that Finn wouldn't mind Clarke resting above him. No, the devoted boy would probably be glad for the closeness. There wasn't much she could compare to Finn's single-minded passion for the girl he never could really make his. 

Heavy footsteps announced the news before Octavia could see them. There was silence in their return. No yelling for their healer. No urgency. No relieved celebration, or even grumbles about their tiredness. 

Carefully Miller and Atom laid Trina down where Finn had laid in wait only hours ago, then Bellamy and Wells laid Pascal down beside her. Harper and Monroe followed with satchels overflowing with moss and flowers. 

“What happened?” asked Wells thickly with his eyes only on the unconscious blonde once relieved of his burden. 

“We were just sitting out here and then I didn't want to wake her.” replied Octavia coolly. 

“Go get some of the guys who've been sitting around to come dig.” ordered Bellamy harshly, and Wells went off in silent obedience, though his eyes were full of worry for Clarke. 

Stalking forwards, before Octavia realized what he was going to do, her brother had reached down to pull Clarke from her arms. Hefting the blonde up to his chest, Bellamy acted like she was little more than a doll. Without a word, he carried her away from the boy she'd given mercy to at the price of her own heart. He'd never admit it, but he did wish he could so easily haul her away from the grief of it too. 

The camp watched, but moved out of his path as Bellamy carried her through. He ducked not into the tent shared by the three girls, but into his own. There he laid her gently down on his own pallet and laid a fur across her. Looking down, Bellamy noted the swollen eyes, the dried tear tracks. Her face had been so dirty that where her tears had fallen was an entire shade lighter. Somehow asleep she still looked younger than she ever did awake. 

“The dead are gone, and the living are hungry, huh, princess? Alright.” muttered Bellamy wearily nodding in agreement to her words despite the girl being deeply apart from reality for now. 

With his mouth set tight, and his jaw clenched, the weight of the world literally upon his shoulder, he headed back out. Grabbing s spear he called for a hunting party with her words echoing in his head and lead them out. They couldn't hide lurking around the dropship in fear if they wanted to survive. 

Standing up at the new graveyard once her brother had marched off with Clarke in his arms, Octavia had to slowly stretch out stiff muscles. She wasn't sure how long she'd sat there, but it'd been an hour at the least. 

“Clarke put something on Finn before they buried him....” stated Harper hesitantly. 

“Smelled like mint but something else too.” prompted Monroe. 

Octavia nodded shortly. “Yea, just a.. repellent, I guess. I'll get it. Unless there's an emergency, we need to let her... sleep this off.” instructed the dark haired girl firmly. Though they exchanged a glance, the others accepted it her instruction. This was Bellamy's sister, and Clarke's closest confidant. Octavia might have shown zero interest in the running of the camp, but no one wanted to go against Bellamy and Clarke by outright ignoring her. 

In the dropship, where someone had stashed Clarke's bag earlier, Octavia found Charlotte and Monty sitting on the floor quietly talking of herbal remedies. It shouldn't have surprised the older girl when Clarke's apprentice followed on her heels after being told that Clarke was resting. 

Outside the wall, Charlotte knelt down beside Octavia and solemnly dipped her fingers into the strong smelling salve. With small, gentle hands, Charlotte spread the concoction out over the still bodies, watching Octavia closely to be sure of her own movements. 

Two of the boys from the hunting crews were already at work digging a grave beside Finn. 

“Clarke said it wouldn't really make a difference...” stated the youngest girl hesitantly. “That it was just a way to care for the dead when we couldn't do anything else.” 

Octavia hummed softly, not realizing even that this was something she'd picked up from memories of the blonde medic. 

“Yea, we don't have the supplies to embalm them, and on the ark, well, they just got floated. No resources wasted. We could create a pyre, but... this feels more right I guess. This is our home now, and it was theirs too. Final journey to the earth, you know. Coffins would take too long to build, and we don't have the material to spare for shrouds. But the moss makes a soft place to lay them. The salve... well, it's a reminder that we'd care for them even now, I guess. An insect repellent, honestly. And the flowers are us saying good-bye.” explained Octavia frankly. 

“She's going to be mad we didn't wake her up to do this.” pointed out Charlotte after they were nearly finished anyway.

“Listen to Clarke. She's your mentor, and she'll do her best for you. There is no one with more devotion than her.” murmured Octavia heavily as she made a final pass across Trina's small face. 

“I will.” whispered the youngest girl faintly.

“But know that sometimes... even the strongest people need to recuperate. Clarke's good at taking care of everyone but herself. Let her rest when we can do without her.” continued Octavia grimly. 

Charlotte nodded slowly before returning to her task with Pascal. He'd only been a couple years older than the little apprentice, but that hadn't mattered when the fog caught him. 

Once three graves laid at rest, the entire camp, minus one of their fearless leaders, sat quietly eating the fresh deer Bellamy and the other hunters had brought back. 

“Alright, you lot, so as the princess says, the dead are gone and the living are hungry. We have no idea when winter is going to hit here, but considering it's September... we know it's coming soon enough. Not only do we need food stored up to get through months without prey, we need a serious stockpile of furs if we're not going to freeze to death. We'll figure something out to be safer when it hits, but we can't let this fog force us into a slow death this winter. So we need volunteers from the other work crews to form another hunting party to send out when we can. Meet by the gate tomorrow after breakfast.” stated Bellamy with all eyes upon him. 

“Did Clarke get hurt too?” called a voice from somewhere in the crowd. 

Bellamy nodded curtly. “She's recovering so let her rest unless it's an emergency. Go to my sister or her apprentice if you think you need her.” 

Sitting at Octavia's side near the fire, and basically at Bellamy's feet, Charlotte flushed as eyes fell upon her. Reminding herself of a comment her mentor had made about confidence, and not letting anyone see her cower... she sat stiffly without ducking her head.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I really have no idea where the topics in this chapter came from. Honestly. It's just like, well, you know one part of why it's such a bad idea to throw a bunch of teenagers into the middle of nowhere alone? And voila- this chapter popped out. Next chapter gets back on track for my actual plan here... Also if you notice any mistakes, let me know so I can fix them!

Day Seven 

The lower level of the dropship was her space. Yes, the one hundred all tromped through it throughout the day and night as needed, but they came, they were seen to, and they left. Charlotte, and the others of the so-called dropship crew spent plenty of time here, busy and not. It remained hers. She'd saved lives, and watched them end here. Mostly in her memories, though. So far, they'd been very lucky this go-round, and none of their three dead so far had died in here. Her memories of another life had soaked this space in blood and sweat- enough of it hers. Not lucky enough for three of their number though. Going an entire week with all of their hundred and one would have just been too much of a miracle, she thinks bitterly. 

The upper level was more a collaboration- Monty, Jasper, Charlotte, and even Bellamy, to a lesser degree, spent a considerable amount of time up there. Frankly she should probably be a little concerned about what Charlotte was learning from them beyond natural medicine. A twelve year old brewing moonshine seemed like an alarming thought even here on Earth. The worry was pushed aside though. Those three guys were some of the only ones she fully trusted Charlotte with. The kid might turn into a proficient bootlegger, but she'd be safe, looked after, and kept from dipping into the product for now.

Finn's death had burned away the hazy sense of peace that had grown from their busy, but peaceful time here on this vicious planet. Earth was still a brutal home more likely to swallow them whole than be the foundation from which they could grow. She had a navy colored pencil and a brittle, yellowed thick notebook from the little bunker. There was no time, nor heart, for drawing beyond what was neccesary. Under her hands, a medical manual was carefully forming. Behind the cover, she'd neatly, in thick, bold letters written the description- “Collection of Urgent Healing Knowledge- Clarke Griffin.”As she wrote, considering every word as if lives depended upon it- which they may- Clarke realized she could fill several of these with what she knew of healing. Already today she'd covered the first quarter of this one, but she only dared to write on one side. The paper was delicate, and the colored pencil wasn't the best utensil for this anyway. It would be useless, or worse, if it was illegible. So she had to waste the one side of each page. This was worth it. Monty must be induced to write his own. If she could fill half a dozen, then he'd probably need a full dozen.

Clarke heard someone enter the dropship, but did not look up from her writing. She was trying to be as sensible about the topic order as possible, but she'd left the first page blank for an index and was putting it to good use anyway. Privately she also was trying to figure out a salve to deal with acid burns- going over it in her head again and again whenever she paused with her writing. It was an absolutely lost cause, yet here she was anyway. There had to be another answer than a quick mercy. Monty had bit his lip and swallowed thickly when she'd asked him about it. “There's nothing powerful enough on this planet to undo that kind of damage.” he'd said with such obvious pain and guilt that she'd shaken off her own sorrow in order to not let him see it. He'd promised to come up with idea for minimal exposure treatment anyway. High exposure was lethal, and always would be, he'd told her gravely. 

She'd gotten lost in her own head so deeply she'd forgotten someone was walking inside. 

“Um, Clarke, I know you asked Finn to share a tent with me.” began Wells in that oh so solemn, smooth voice of his that unfortunately reminded her too much of his father. She still didn't look up. 

Her hand began tapping the pencil against the notebook compulsively. If she'd looked up, she would have seen how his jaw clenched painfully. She would have seen how his dark eyes could have been no softer than they were now as he stood there watching her. But she didn't. Seeing it now wasn't required because she knew Wells like she knew her own mind, and she didn't want to see how obvious his love was. 

Loving the commander of death was signing your own execution writ. 

“I was just going to bring you his stuff anyway, but I found a note in his pallet when I was picking it up. It said to give you everything of his, and for you to look through it, please.” continued Wells undaunted by her silence. 

“Put it in my tent.” she muttered bitterly, still tapping her pencil, and staring down at the historic notebook she was trying to fill with enough words that her people would stop dying. 

He left her in the quietness. Oh, she could hear the chatter from the upper level, and from outside in the camp, but tucked between the cabinet and the wall, behind the table, well, this was as private as life on Earth got. Wells had known her better than his own mind, until they were separated. The chancellor's son didn't know this Clarke well. It was enough that he knew when to leave her be. 

It took a while to get her legs up under her and head for whatever was awaiting her. Her book and pencil were reverently tucked into the cabinet first. No one outside of the dropship crew knew what she was working on. Why keep it private, she didn't know, but she was betting her life on her instincts so often that she didn't question them anymore. 

The modest pile somehow filled the tent with Finn's presence. Clarke could no more ignore it than she could force herself to simply cease breathing. Beneath the note that Wells had found tucked into the lost boy's pallet, Finn's life amounted to to one knapsack and a blanket of deer furs. Clarke read it grimly- it simply read “Give my stuff to Clarke”.

But inside the knapsack... Finn still had the power to crush whatever remained of Clarke's heart. 

“Princess, 

I'm writing this not knowing what to say and maybe if we're really, really lucky, you'd never read it. I don't feel that lucky. But I have to say a better good-bye. Maybe you won't understand, but I think you will. Clarke Griffin, I love you. I can say with absolute assurance that my love for you does not end with death. I'm sorry for every moment of pain I've ever caused, but especially with you. Remember me only if it'll make you smile. I'm telling you to be happy, princess. I already know you'll be strong. You make Earth worth trying, and if you're reading this... I'm sorry to leave you. Live for me. 

May we meet again 

Yours, eternally 

Finn 

A hasty postscript had been added, not in a neat pen, but in a rough charcoal. 

“The star necklace is for you of course. Let my furs keep you warm though I can't.” 

Sure enough, inside the knapsack, underneath the two changes of clothes allowed in Skybox and sent down with the delinquents, was a necklace with a shining, spiky metal star, and a letter in that pen's script bearing the name of the other girl of Finn's life. Nothing else. Skybox hadn't exactly allowed much in the way of possessions. 

Carefully, Clarke slid the necklace over her head, biting her lip to hold in the howl that was clawing to be let loose. She set the blanket, which would easily cover all three of them, she had no idea when Finn had found the time to make, or trade for this, gently to her side, and stuffed his backpack, with the notes tucked inside, into her corner. Later she would make herself pull the clothes out and stash them up in the dropship for whomever may need them. Not just yet. 

Stiffly she rose, walking back out of the tent, as if she wasn't reliving both sets of memories of a boy called Spacewalker. 

“The dead are gone, and the living are hungry.” she repeated to herself- wondering if Lexa's voice would echo in her head forever with her unable to stop clinging to them. 

But she still found herself heading back at his grave near dusk, after seeing to everything and everyone else. Finn didn't need her anymore, yet here she was. Called back to him. 

Solemnly she knelt down at Finn's side and gazed across at the trio of unmarked graves with half-lidded eyes. Absently, she pulled the star necklace from beneath her shirt to fidget with as she thought about the the uncomfortable fact that it felt more like he'd died months ago- like he had in her memory, and that the few days reunited with him had been simply a dream. 

Charlotte found her there, sidling up to her quietly, and joining her mentor kneeling down. 

“He was really nice.” murmured the youngest of the one hundred hesitantly. 

“Yes, he was.” agreed Clarke gently. 

“A few days ago, he told me I was really lucky to be your apprentice because you're amazing.” ventured the twelve year old. 

Clarke snorted, but smiled as well. 

“Finn loved me so he wasn't exactly unbiased about my abilities. I consider myself the lucky one to have you as my apprentice.” she assured the girl. 

It was odd to speak of Finn's feelings for her so plainly, yet it was a relief too. He'd loved her. In a totally, heartrendingly, undeniable depth, Finn Collins had loved her. For her, he'd damned himself so totally, and for him, she'd remember that. Though it had been a matter of shame and guilt before, in this moment, the first she'd ever so simply spoken of it, Clarke decided she would carry that with her proudly. There had been both great goodness and terrifying darkness in this boy, and his love was an honor no matter what else it was. There was no way she could accept his death, but... at least this time he died without having soaked his soul in innocent blood. The world didn't know of either his bravery nor of his cruelty. That... that she should accept. Since she must. 

They stayed quiet a while with each thinking about the newly created graveyard. Trina had been one of the youngest girls besides Charlotte, and they'd been... vaguely friends at least. 

“If anything happens to me, stick close to Octavia.” began Clarke firmly, she saw Charlotte's suddenly anxious face swivel to her, but kept going. 

“These are our people, but that doesn't mean everyone is to be fully trusted. Bellamy is a good leader, and Monty will keep teaching you about medicinal herbs which are really important down here. My book will give you instructions on everything I manage to get written down. Wells is kind and honest, but he's not really convinced about how dangerous the Council can be. He wouldn't hurt anyone on purpose though. Miller is trustworthy, so are Harper and Monroe. Don't cross Murphy, but if you're in a bind, he could be an ally. Be careful, ok? Don't go out of camp alone either.” instructed Clarke sincerely. 

Biting her lip and looking as if she might cry, Charlotte nodded anyway. 

“I'm not trying to scare you, but I hate the idea that I might not be around to watch out for you. Earth is... unpredictable, and we need each other down here.” she explained more gently. 

Day 10 

Bellamy had found a kid up for the task of carving legibly into the metal sheet on the wall facing the graves. 

The 101   
Skaikru, est. 2149  
We Remember   
Finn   
Trina   
Pascal

Octavia had dictated the inscription. It didn't have to be said it must be created with plenty of room to add names. She said it anyway bluntly and without apology. 

Temperamentally, with flashing eyes and a defiant set to her child as if someone had forbidden her from it, the younger Blake sibling had started braiding her hair into those practical, tight cords of a warrior the morning after Finn died. It was almost a relief to see her as Clarke best remembered her. So much so that she'd sat impassively to allow Octavia to braid her own hair as well. 

The warrior girl crafted a woven crown each morning at dawn now- wasn't that a surprise? While the blonde had expected sharp pulls, and hard yanks, and would have accepted them without comment, they didn't happen. Rather, Octavia's gentle hands at Clarke's head felt like forgiveness. They still didn't talk much, but the understanding between them didn't seem to require words here on this side of the abyss. There was a comfort in their closeness that had never existed before. The deaths that had pit them so at odds had been undone, and maybe this time they could walk together wherever their paths lead. At least there was another chance. 

Once she'd finished first her own hair, then Clarke's, she'd plait Charlotte's into a thick, long braid down her back. Nearly without sound, she'd whispered the first morning that Lincoln had told her it was how a girl's hair was usually done among trikru when she'd past early childhood, but was not yet a woman. 

Two sets of footsteps plodding into the dropship caught Clarke's ear, making her grimace. Multiple people at the same time generally meant it was an extra crappy situation. Either one person injured badly enough that someone actually thought they should walk to the dropship, or two injured in a big accident. Which was it this time? Either way, it meant a bigger challenge, and all of her helpers were out today. 

Her first glance at the pair that came in didn't make it clear though- there was Murphy, looking as grim and bored as ever, his left wrist still splinted, but he didn't appear any worse off, and the other boy was on the building crew she was pretty sure, though she couldn't place him.. 

As he strode forwards with a smirk, it hit her in unpleasant realization. He was one of two who'd died in the dropship's landing- Glen Dickson. So here was one of the only two delinquents she truly did not know at all. Except that he was reckless enough to follow Finn out of their seats. Literally a walking reminder of Finn. Right now this guy was alive, and Finn wasn't, and this wasn't how it should've been. 

So caught up in her thoughts of Spacewalker, Clarke was functioning on autopilot getting Glen seated and assessing his injury. It was only when she turned to grab something that she realized that instead of slipping back out of the dropship like she'd assumed, Murphy had stationed himself behind her. He was silently leaning against the wall, sharpening his knife, and watching Glen. Who wasn't anywhere near in bad enough shape to demand any such concern from anyone- much less Murphy. 

In fact, it was a relatively deep, but short cut to his left hand. Very neat, he must have slipped with a knife...? It needed tending to, of course, but it wasn't even bleeding horribly- not enough to warrant anyone feeling the need to walk him to the excuse of a med bay... and wasn't Murphy on watch right now? 

John Murphy meet her wary gaze with just a bit of a smirk before returning his watch to Glen. Clarke blinked, and move on- back to dealing with Glen. Thanks to before the medic was fairly confident of her abilities to suture simple wounds even if she was sleepwalking, so it wasn't a surprise how swiftly she got this patient finished. Soon Glen had been sent back out with warnings to keep it clean and dry. 

Only after she was sure the most recent patient was gone did she turn back to Murphy, who'd remained fidgeting with his knife. Now he met her gaze neutrally. 

“Ok, what was that about?” she asked suspiciously, crossing her arms wearily.

Murphy's eyes flicked to the curtained entrance of the dropship then back to her face before he spoke.

“Dickson's a creep. Dropship's a little isolated.” he answered dryly and smirking at her deepening frown. 

“What do you mean a creep?” asked Clarke. 

“Mostly just some... talk, but then again he just cut his hand open to get a chance alone in here with the princess so perhaps he's not all talk.” replied Murphy coolly. 

“It was a very short cut. Normally I'm not alone in here-” she muttered in reply, turning and beginning to clean up her space as she thought. 

“But everyone saw the geeks take your little shadow out with the hunting crew.” reminded Murphy slyly. 

“So he knew I'd be alone.” she agreed with a sigh. “As if we don't have enough issues to deal with.” 

The makeshift med bay straightened up, awaiting the next clumsy, reckless, or simply unlucky patient, Clarke pulled her jacket back on.

“I'm going see Bellamy about this I guess.” she told the still figure before she offered a small smile. “Thanks for waiting.” 

He just nodded a once curtly without speaking, and followed her from the dropship. Immediately she glanced into Bellamy's tent, but he wasn't there, so she went to look around, belatedly realizing Murphy was still following her. 

Murphy being protective of me? Now that's unlikely. She thought curiously, but knowing how prickly he was she wasn't about to ask him about it. 

Finally she found the guy she was looking for on the far side of the wall, helping hoist a log into place to reinforce one of the skimpier sections. Once it was in, his eyes quickly found her questioningly. 

“Got a minute?” she asked shortly. He frowned, of course, but nodded in agreement, noticing Murphy at her side. 

The mixed match trio move away from the various clumps of people, finally ducking into Bellamy's tent to get some quiet. 

Bellamy immediately sat down on his bed, and smirked up at them impatiently, and Clarke opened her mouth, but Murphy beat her to it. 

“Dickson just slashed his own hand to get some private time with the princess after he saw her entourage leave with the hunters.” stated John Murphy boldly.

Bellamy's smirking face clouded instantly, and he stood back in an instant. 

“What? Did he do something-?” demanded the former guard hotly, but this time Clarke cut in. 

“No, he didn't.” she assured him firmly. “But he didn't even have a chance to because John stayed with me.” she announced calmly.

Bellamy's eyes shifted to Murphy again, the guys exchanging a quick look that Clarke wasn't quite sure how to interpret.

“They culled Skybox before they sent us down, right?” asked Clarke sharply. 

Murphy shrugged, but Bellamy nodded. “Culled, or just picked you lot out of the rest at least. I don't know.”

“Right because there's no way the hundred of us were the only ones. The gender and age ratios are just too skewed, never mind the perfectly neat number. So surely they didn't send down... the most violent ones?” she reasoned. 

“Princess, there are plenty of kids down here for assault and murder. Half of them are done for violent or destrutive offenses. Hell, even your little mini-me's charge was assault.” reminded Bellamy sarcastically. 

“Yea, a ten year old stabbed a guard with a pen. I'm shaking in my boots. Honestly, besides the Council, who'd really blame her for that?” retorted Clarke. “All the ones I know about though- even the ones for killing there were... extenuating circumstances. I know one of the hunting crew killed his dad, but not until after his mom had a broken arm.” 

“Fine, yea, so they probably sorted out the ones they thought most likely to wipe out the bulk of the group before they could even figure out how bad the radiation is. But this group is still full of violent offenders.” returned Bellamy glaring down at her. 

“Surely they couldn't be crazy enough to send rapists down here?” asked Clarke more to herself than anyone else, but Murphy smirked mockingly anyway. 

“Even if they weren't, which I'm not convinced of, the Council's not all knowing.” he pointed out. 

Clarke nodded grimly in acknowledgment. 

“So what are we going to do about him then?” asked the blonde grimly. 

Bellamy and Murphy exchanged looks again, making Clarke frown at their camaraderie. 

“Just shoot him and get it over with.” suggested Bellamy dismissively.

“We can't execute someone because we think he might commit a crime.” countered the medic aghast. 

“No, what we can't do is leave a predator loose with thirty girls- including my sister, a twelve year old, and you.” barked Bellamy.

“This is not the Ark! We are not replicating their float-em-all stance down here!” argued Clarke. 

“So what's your idea, Princess? Hope for the best?” growled her counterpart bitterly. 

She glared at him for a long moment before bothering to answer. 

“Obviously not. I'll talk to the girls- see if there have been any incidents. I've been meaning to get them all together anyway. You should talk to the guys at the same time- about consent, safety, etc. See who seems to resistant to that idea so we know who to watch. Actually, you should make sure they get the point that birth control isn't exactly available into their heads too. Everyone tends to stick in groups anyway, but we should encourage that more.” outlined Clarke smoothly, but Bellamy's face had scrunched up at the line about birth control. 

“The Ark's implants are good for five years- why do we need to start worrying now?” he asked shortly.

Clarke stared at him in disbelief. 

“Because at least some of the group isn't protected currently.” she replied slowly. 

Bellamy's eyebrows swept up, and Murphy shifted uncomfortably. 

“Why not?” demanded Bellamy- like it was Clarke's fault for this, she noticed grudgingly. 

“Because they are implanted at menarche which occurs anywhere from age 10 to age 15, they only last for five years, but the Council isn't going to waste resources for girls in Skybox. Any of the girls who should've had theirs replaced while they were locked up, or who were thrown into Skybox before they ever got one are unprotected. The girls are mostly around sixteen- so they're well old enough that they could have outlasted their primary implant already.” explained the medic in exasperation that he hadn't realized this. 

“What the hell is menarche?” asked Murphy, at the same time that Bellamy spoke up too- “Didn't they do new implants before the drop?”.

Clarke glanced to Murphy first. “Menarche is just a girl's first period. The Ark doesn't waste resources by doing implants until a girl is fertile.” 

He grimaced at her, but she didn't notice because she'd already looked back to Bellamy. 

“No. I'm guessing they were still on a “don't waste resources” idea there. What's the point of wasting implants when they mostly expected us all to die in hours? Which is just brilliant because that means there could be thirty pregnant girls by the time they came down with implants in tow.” she replied bitterly. 

Bellamy was staring in horror. It didn't take a genius to realize he was thinking about his sister- who certainly hadn't gotten an implant while living under the floor. Then again- Bellamy had slept with some of the seventeen year old girls already... 

“So you'll talk to the boys? Look for anyone who may be an issue? We should do the meetings at the same time. I'll bring the girls into the dropship after breakfast.” insisted the medic firmly, and groggily, Bellamy nodded at her. 

“What the hell are we going to do about that?” he asked blankly, staring at her like she'd slapped him. 

Clarke sighed and rolled her eyes. “I'll talk to Monty about possible herbal remedies as soon as he gets back. At the very least some reminders about alternate methods of sexual gratification along with the limited effectiveness of withdrawal are called for. It's better than nothing, but still...” 

Bellamy stared at her while Murphy snorted at her comment. 

“You know, we're taking down enough animals... we could probably make condoms from intestines.” suggested the most amused of their little meeting. 

Now Bellamy was gaping at both of them, but Clarke had lit up at the idea. 

“Oh, yes, I read about that! That was the original material for them after all. Well, intestines and bladders... We'd need to consider how to craft them, and what could be used to lubricate them without diminishing quality, or causing irritation...” mused Clarke. 

“You think you can talk a bunch of teenagers into using animal intestines when they hook up?” asked Bellamy finally. 

“You think you can talk a bunch of teenagers into abstinence?” retorted Clarke dryly. 

The former guard certainly looked like he was considering it, this time forcing Clarke and Murphy to exchange a look about his stubbornness. Finally, he groaned and nodded. “Fine. Whatever you want. Go make goddamn rubbers out of animal guts and hand them out.” 

Clarke just raised a brow as if she hadn't been waiting for consent- which she hadn't been. 

Monty, Jasper, and Charlotte came practically skipping into the dropship after their trip out with Octavia's hunting party. 

“Monty, great, you're back. What do you know about contraceptive herbal possibilities?” asked Clarke quickly which froze the arrivals in place. 

“Ummm... well, there were many plants that were valued for their supposed usefulness, of course, but the Ark always relied on artificial hormones sooo I'd have to see what grows around here to see if there's any ummm hope.” stammered the surprised herbalist. 

“Great. Let me know. At least some of the girls don't have implants, and that really isn't an issue we want to be dealing with.” replied Clarke calmly.

Charlotte looked mortified at the topic, but Clarke didn't acknowledge it. It wasn't as if either of the boys looked any more comfortable. 

“However, we also need to at attempt at producing some form of condoms. Murphy pointed out that we do have an abundance of animal intestines to experiment with. Since the preparation, cleaning, and lubrication of them could possibly benefit from herbal substances, I was hoping you'd take charge of this project?” continued the medic coolly. 

Monty and Jasper both gaped until she gave them a sharp, insistence look, then the pair immediately nodded and stuttered out agreements. 

“There's going to be sex-segregated meetings tomorrow morning, btw.” added Clarke as she swept out of the dropship past them as she heard Octavia calling her. 

“Wait, you're gonna-” began Jasper anxiously.

Clarke looked over her shoulder with a smirk. “I'll be dealing with the girls. You get Bellamy for your meeting.” she assured him wickedly, and the pair of boys looked somehow even more anxious than before. 

Their resident medic after all was known for her cool-headed civility when it came to medical matters. However the more blunt of their leaders wasn't exactly someone anyone would think of as being a spokesperson for birth control. 

Charlotte squeaked a little bit as they all considered that, and rushed after Clarke's departing steps out of the dropship. 

“We have to what?” asked Jasper faintly. 

“This isn't really happening, is it?” asked Monty in disbelief. 

“Get some work done before morning!” bellowed Clarke firmly from beyond the curtains.

The pair flinched in sync. 

Out near the fire, the deer from the last hunting party were already being processed, and Clarke instructed a baffled looking Bree to bring all of the intestines into the dropship after cleaning them. 

Day 11 

As soon as everyone had a chance at breakfast, as usual a porridge-ish concoction from an undefinable wheat-like plant along with berries and some leftover meat from dinner, Clarke had firmly summoned all thirty-ones girls into the dropship, and had them all sit down on the lower level floor, while she sat down with her back against the makeshift exam table. The boys had been snickering at the girls' exodus, until Bellamy yelled at them to shut up and gather up by the fire. 

By the time she released the group, after Bellamy had stuck his head in to inform her that he was done with the guys, they fled en masse, with her yelling out at their retreating backs- “I'm serious! I've never performed a c-section, and I don't want to change that fact!” Clarke was so done, and it wasn't even noon. 

Only her own tent mates and their trio of next door neighbors remained after the rush outwards. Apparently they wanted a chance to laugh at her now that the rank and file were gone. 

“Well, that was fun.” said Monroe. 

Clarke looked at her flatly. 

“That was a disaster.” she reported dryly.

“Nah, you're better than the health teacher I had.” assured Harper even as she laughed along with the rest. Besides Charlotte who honestly looked as though she'd absorbed all the information she possibly could for today and would be busy processing it for quite some time. 

“We really can't deal with pregnancy down here anytime soon.” insisted Clarke desperately. 

“You made that very, very, very clear.” assured Octavia with a giant smirk. 

“They really liked the part about animal bladders being a possibility for vaginal condoms.” teased Fox.

“Ughhhh. Charlotte, you can go out with Octavia, or with Wells' water crew if you want. Or just hang out for now. I need to go talk to Bellamy.” muttered Clarke, leaving the others behind hastily. 

She found Bellamy this time setting up a target practice for throwing spears outside the wall with a group of the hunters, but he glared at them all before leaving them under Miller's charge. 

“Yea?” he asked as they walked back into camp, and into his tent again. 

“How'd your meeting go?” she asked, sitting down upon his bed after he did. 

“Dickson was the only one really scornful, most of the others were just being idiots. It snowballed from there. Some of those kids were locked up before they were even made it to the sixth grade health class, and it just... no. Not again. Not ever doing that again. It's done. They know everything they need to. I am never doing that again.” swore the former guard gruffly. 

“Well, bad news. Only nine of the girls have functioning implants, and they're all due to be replaced within two years. The rest of us are on our own.” reported Clarke dryly, earning a groan and disgusted look from Bellamy. 

“Wait, you too?” he asked bluntly. 

She scowled at him, but nodded. “It should have been replaced a few months ago, but obviously that wasn't happening in Skybox.” 

Her counterpart grunted disapprovingly. 

“I have no idea how the Council thought this was would end any way other than unplanned pregnancies. Honestly, let's just throw a pack of teenagers out, unsupervised, bored, scared, and restless, and not even consider the massive problem with birth control not being available.” she continued bitterly. 

“Because a bunch of teenage delinquents are going to be paragons of self-control and restraint.” muttered Bellamy. 

“So... we have one girl who's already late but hadn't noticed until the meeting brought it up, and several who didn't even consider the fact that they were unprotected before... reveling in the freedom down here but aren't due to have started their periods yet.” stated Clarke flatly.

Bellamy glared horribly at this revelation. 

“Don't look at me. I'm a medic. Not a midwife. My mother was only ever involved with complicated maternal issues, so she didn't see many births outside of the OR, and I couldn't go in there as a kid. Actually I've only observed two cesareans, one of which the mother bled out, by the way, and only a handful of vaginal births. I do know the theory, but I've never even seen a dilation and curettage. Never mind that without the tools for it there's just no way.” she explained. 

“We... we aren't forcing terminations down here.” he retorted sharply as he realized what technique she'd absently mentioned, and Clarke rolled her eyes. 

“That doesn't mean it not be a needed procedure to know.” she replied stiffly. 

“Needed?” he snapped back. 

She stiffened up, returning his glare dauntlessly. 

“Yes, needed! If a miscarriage is incomplete, which is incrediably common even on the Ark, something has to be done. Never mind the radiation and malnutrition that would likely make the miscarriage rate triple easily down here. D&C would be approatiate intervention. But there's no way I can even imagine doing it without tools. Could we manage it herbally? I don't know! Monty doesn't know if there's anything around here that would work, and apparently an overdose of the any herbs that would work can kill as well so basically we're all screwed anyway! Pregnancy may be a natural process, but when we're talking of teenage girls without a steady food supply, supplies, or you know, an actual obstetrical care provider, it's not without significant risk if something goes wrong!” she ranted. 

“I... uh, oh.” muttered Bellamy after a moment, softening up some. 

“It's not just a matter of us being unprepared for infants in camp- these girls are actually risking their health if they become pregnant with only me to help! If something really goes wrong, I'm not going to be able to handle it! I'm damn near useless for this!” she exclaimed angrily with her eyes narrowed sharply upon him, but her reddened face and heavy breathing were more to do with her own helplessness than annoyance at him. Not that he would figure that out. 

“And one is already knocked up?” asked Bellamy quietly only once he was sure she'd completed her frustrated wave of warning. 

Clarke shook her head sharply, with her fists balling up in her lap. “She's a few days late, and has had multiple partners beginning with the first night sooo it's certainly possible. However stress and diet change could be the cause. We'll just have to wait and see. At least it's one of the oldest girls.” she said resignedly. 

Bellamy froze though, and locked eyes with the blonde medic. 

“Ummm...” he exhaled a coughing mutter, and her eyes narrowed as she realized his concern. 

“Ugh.” she acknowledged. 

“Who?” he asked. 

“Roma.” announced Clarke dryly. 

“Shit.” muttered Bellamy. 

“Yea. Of course, she's also slept with several others, and I have no idea how'd we test paternity down here sooo....” replied the medic coolly. 

“She has?” he asked blankly. 

Clarke stared back. 

“According to her, Connor, Sterling, Derek, and Mbege.” replied Clarke slowly. 

Her counterpart actually gaped. 

“I am so done with this entire subject.” muttered Clarke resentfully. 

“No more of it.” agreed Bellamy hastily. 

“Unless there's an actual problem.” groaned the medic. 

 

Day 12 

Though they heard the others trying in vain to keep up, Bellamy and Clarke went on ahead, hearing something. came through the brush together, and there was Raven. 

Blood on her head, still breathtakingly beautiful, and clearly pissed off as she struggled with the suit. 

Steeling herself, and feeling Bellamy so close their shoulders brushed. 

“Don't tear the suit! It'll be useful.” called Clarke coolly, and Raven's head swung towards them eagerly. 

“I made it!” exclaimed the youngest zeroG mechanic in half a century. 

“Yea, you did.” agreed Bellamy dryly, eyeing the arrival warily. 

“I'm Clarke Griffin- a medic. Let me look at your injuries.” continued his partner civilly. 

Raven shrugged and grinned, dropping down onto a stone. 

“Clarke! This is all because of your mom! She sent me down here! They think you're all dead and they're going to float three hundred people! You all took off the bracelets, right? They thought you were all dead, but I told them you were just probably taking them off!” announced Raven quickly, but Clarke cut her off as she began to clean pretty older girl's busted up head. 

“You can deal with that once we get your head stabilized.” stated the medic coldly, and now Bellamy was eyeing his blonde counterpart unsure. 

“Whoa!” announced Octavia cheerfully as the rest of their crew came crashing loudly closer. 

“Did they send supplies?” asked Wells hopefully as soon as he edged around Bellamy's sister into the clearing. 

“Um, no, just the radio, really.” admitted Raven unsure. 

“Seriously?” asked Murphy disgustedly. 

“It wasn't like actually a sanctioned thing.” defended the newest arrival on Earth quickly. “Clarke's mom totally planned it out behind the council's back because she just knew Clarke couldn't be-” 

“Abigail Griffin's actions have no bearing on me.” cut in Clarke coldly, stepping away from Raven. 

“What?” yelped Raven, her dark eyes widening and mouth falling open as she jumped to her feet a bit unsteadily. 

“She floated my dad, and right now she's just upset that her doll isn't in her control.” retorted Clarke coldly. 

“But, no, what-” stumbled Raven awkwardly. 

“Never mind the Counselor. Are you Raven Reyes?” asked Clarke flatly. 

Raven collected herself, straightening her shoulders, even as she eyed the group carefully and gave a short nod. 

“Then it is my regret that I must inform you that Finn died several days ago.” continued Clarke formally looking straight at Raven. 

There was a feel of hot blood on Clarke's hands as every fragment of excitement and joy drained from the girl. 

“What happened?” choked out Raven blankly. 

“There is acid fog.” said Clarke grimly. “He was caught out in it along with two others.” 

“No. No!” denied Raven desperately, sinking to her knees, her eyes only on the bearer of the news, totally ignoring the others'. 

“He wouldn't have even been here if not for me!” cried the dark haired girl frantically. 

“I know.” stated Clarke. “Finn said he did not regret giving you a chance to live. He left a letter for you too. It's back at camp.” 

“Which should be heading back to.” added Bellamy stiffly. 

“Talk to the Ark first, but quickly.” interceded Clarke. 

Numbly, and quietly weeping all the while, Raven staggered to her feet. Kneeling inside her scrap piece pod, she'd clutched the radio and made the call. 

It was a quiet, but swift retreat back to the camp. Wells helped Raven, letting her lean on him, though she was so dazed and stunned between the grief and the pain that she probably didn't notice. Three hundred and twenty lives, saved. It should have been a victory march, but between the newest arrival's breathless grief and Clarke's own dissapointment, the group was weighed down. 

“Is there anyone else in on this planet or above who remembers?” wondered Clarke mournfully, and Octavia took her hand for the walk back as if their thoughts were one and the same. It had seemed that surely Raven would remember too. But there was nothing in her demeanor to even hint that it was possible. Clarke, Octavia, and Finn, what did they three have so in common that it would be them, and them alone? For that matter, how had Octavia died? Or had she? It wasn't like the medic could ask right now surrounded by the others, and there were very few chances at privacy on Earth. 

As night fell, dozens of the kids outside began yelling about a meteor shower. Clarke and Octavia froze in the med bay surrounded by Jasper and Monty whom were trying to ply them with moonshine, and Charlotte, sitting on the exam table, contenedly having been listen to the chatter of the older ones. 

The girls, so different in appearance, looked to each other as their blood ran cold. 

Jasper practically flew outside to see what all the yelling was about, with Monty and Charlotte on his heels, even as the medic and once-warrior remained stiffly standing in place. 

“No.” denied Clarke quietly. 

“Why?” murmured Octavia. 

They didn't answer each other, but slowly, they turned. On impulse, Octavia reached out and grabbed Clarke's hand into her own roughened up one. Together, faces hardened, and hands clasped tightly enough it would have been painful for girls who had not experienced true pain, they walked out of the med bay. 

On the dropship's door, they stood shoulder to shoulder and watched the outer space funeral. It looked just as massive as it had in another lifetime. 

“This wasn't supposed to happen.” pleaded the young healer bitterly, and Octavia squeezed her hand tightly. 

“They know we're here. That we've survived.” hissed the dark haired girl, her eyes narrowed venomously as she stared up along with the entire camp- all 99 survivors. 

“Bu they did it anyway.” agreed Clarke flatly. 

But why? 

Bellamy was standing just feet away, in front of his tent, and he turned to the girls with shock in his eyes. 

Raven was farther away, but she turned back to look at them blankly. Clarke had not thought the girl could look any more wretched than she did already. She'd been wrong. The young mechanic truly did not appear to be able to continue breathing without a fight. 

Three hundred and twenty lives.

Why?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me more trouble the others. I actually rewrote it, but am still not totally happy with the way it flows. Just decided that I'm not actually making things better by continuing to tweak it (lol). Let me know if notice any errors. Anyway, let me know what you think.

Day 13

Everyone on the Ark she'd managed to talk to had said the same thing: “It was already too late when we got your message.” 

Pushing down the rage from that lie, Clarke forced herself to deal with the looming storm instead of smashing the ragtag communication center. Mostly it was the idea of Raven's horror that reined Clarke's temper back in. The tiny bit of tech they had appeared to be the mechanic's baby in this world without Finn. 

Until Sinclair urgently warned them of it, Clarke somehow forgot about the hurricane. 

Which was more than a little alarming. 

Apparently Octavia had forgotten, or not bothered to mention it either? 

Which was even more alarming either way. 

Between the two of them, they should be able to handle than this existential crisis they were forced to call their life, take two. But apparently they had both overlooked this... 

It took all of Bellamy, Clarke, Octavia, Murphy and Miller's combined force to keep the camp just this side of panic in the flurry to get everything, and everyone, inside the dropship before the weather turned on them. The tents were dismantled, the wall was urgently reinforced, and they rushed along extra water trips to store in the dropship for the night. By this point before, they'd had a smaller number. With their 99 survivors this go-round, the dropship seemed even more tightly packed than she remembered. 

As the the night howled on, Octavia and Miller were holding the fort upstairs. Grim-faced, though how much was about the crowded quarters and how much was sheer grief alone no one knew, Raven was guarding her little tech center with her life. Down below Jasper and Monty were huddled together to sleep sitting up against the med bay's cabinet. 

Near the door, Bellamy, Clarke, Murphy, and Charlotte had originally been sitting in a stiff row. Until the younger girl had crawled half into Clarke's lap to sleep as if she was six rather than twelve. The warm, comforting weight of the other girl had lulled Clarke into dozing finally. 

She didn't even realized what she was doing as she sprawled out with her head on Murphy, and her legs across Bellamy. She'd kept an arm snug around Charlotte so that the smaller blonde, without waking, ended up using Clarke's stomach as a pillow. Neither Bellamy nor Murphy objected. Looking over the pair of girls, they shared a single surprised glance once Clarke settled into place on them both. 

“We need a bigger shelter.” muttered Bellamy, highly disgruntled into the darkness. 

“What? Are we going to build a house?” stated Murphy with his usual disdainful dryness. 

“We just need to get through this winter...” muttered Clarke sleepily though she remained still sprawled between them without opening her eyes. 

The boy on either side of her exchanged another questioning look, but she slipped back into sleep. 

Day 14

Dawn came too soon considering how little sleep they'd managed. Stretching before she even opened her eyes, Clarke shifted and wiggled every way possible. She realized that she was moving against various body parts, and there was almost overwhelming warmth absolutely surrounding her. Wary and baffled, she opened her eyes to peer around in the gloom. With a snort, Clarke realized she was in the center of a human pile- Charlotte lay almost entirely on top of her, and she herself was laying overtop both Bellamy and Murphy, who'd slumped down to their backs at some point in the few hours since they'd passed out. 

Wiggling again, the medic tried to shift her apprentice carefully off of her own body, but the younger girl startled, and landed heavily on Bellamy. The former guard's resulting groan, and Clarke's own flinch over him woke up Murphy who cursed so badly that even Clarke flushed- waking up Charlotte so that she literally jumped away from them all onto the floor a couple feet away- kicking at least one other person in the process if the yelp was anything to go by. Murphy however shoved Clarke more onto Bellamy so that he could sit up. Meanwhile Bellamy groaned again at the second attack, sitting up with his arm automatically around Clarke so she didn't hit the floor when he moved out from under her. 

By the time Clarke realized what had happened, once again sitting between the pair she'd used as a bedroll apparently, half of the lower level was now blearily sitting up and looking at them. 

“Sorry.” whispered Charlotte, though in the near silence of the dropship everyone could hear her. 

“Not your fault.” muttered Clarke wearily. 

“Did you drop her on me?” asked Bellamy tiredly. Clarke shot him an irritated look that he could barely see in the poor light, but certainly felt the heat of. 

“Might as well get moving.” grumbled Murphy as he roughly rubbed his eyes as he tried to wake up more. 

“Yea, fine, somebody get the upper level woke up.” muttered Clarke causing Charlotte to scurry towards and up the ladder to bang on the closed hatch. 

Despite the unintentional wake-up, and their collective sullenness, the one hundred spilled from the dropship sleepy and disgruntled. A rather unusually quiet herd currently, they went stumbling towards their morning chores with their eyes half-open in the first light of day. As soon as Clarke spotted Atom, though, she tapped on his shoulder and urged him to follow her- across the camp, out the gate, and very hesitantly on his part, far enough into the woods to be out of hearing range. 

Once she deemed them safely away, she spun on her heel to look back the watcher who'd so slowly followed her. His eyes were wary, and his shoulders hunched in slightly as he shifted around, glancing back in the direction of camp every few moments. 

“I need you to keep an close eye on Dax. Tell the rest of your crew, as long as none of them are friends with him.” she announced coolly. 

Atom's shoulders actually loosened up a bit as he nodded slowly. “Ok....” he conceded, but still looked at her closely, waiting for her to explain, hopefully.

“He's not to leave camp without at least two trustworthy people who know to watch out.” she added curtly. 

“Yea, ok, but why?” asked the watcher flatly. 

The pretty, blonde, so-called princess stared at him without an ounce of emotion, much less insecurity, before she answered seriously.

“The Council is not happy with us for deciding to remain independent of them.” stated Clarke coldly, before taking back off for camp, walking past him silently. 

There was too much to do. Wet limbs and leaves had to be picked up from all over camp, hunting and water crews still had to go out, tents and everything else had to be set back up... And half a dozen of the kids managed to hurt themselves in one way or the other in the process. Finally, there was a lull, and Octavia jumped at the chance to slip into the dropship to talk to the blonde leader. 

Clarke hustled up the ladder as if it had personally offended her by trying to slow her down, leaping onto the upper level impatiently. Her hasty arrival brought the trio huddled, around a pile of something that the blonde wasn't even going to ask about, jumping to their feet nervously. Following more sedately, Octavia appeared behind Clarke, looking vaguely exasperated. That was such a normal look on her no one even really questioned it anyway. 

“Can you three watch the med bay? Come get me if there's anything critical?” she asked quickly.

Her brows rose impatiently when it took them more than a second to answer. 

The moment Charlotte had scurried down the ladder behind her errant tutors, Clarke dropped the hatch and closed it. It tightly secured, she turned to face the younger Blake.

Octavia ignored the older girl for the moment though, finding a vaguely comfortable spot to drop onto. By wrapping moss in a fur, and partially stitching it closed, Monty had come up with floor cushions, but so far the upper level of the dropship was the only place to find them since he didn't feel like creating a hundred of them for everyone to have their own. 

Grudgingly, Clarke grabbed one of her own, and dropped it beside Octavia, with their backs to a wall. 

The girls weren't looking at each other, but instead both looking around the small space like it was fascinating because neither knew how to begin this tete-a-tete. It was somehow long overdue, despite the short amount of time they could have done so. 

Clarke, with the braided blonde crown on her head, was frozen in the worry of losing this fragile bond with the girl who'd once been so firmly opposed to her. She wished desperately that she could hear whatever Octavia was thinking as the brunette blankly eyed the piles of intestines in various stages of preparation. 

“It's too hard to arrange for some actual privacy.” murmured Clarke hesitantly, and anxiously noticed the agreeing nod from the corner of her eye. 

“Yea, it really is.” said Octavia slowly after a long pause. “We can't risk being overheard, but it really....” 

“Cuts down on our ability to deal with this together.” finished Clarke gravely. 

Octavia's nod this time was a little less curt, thought Clarke hopefully. 

The silence dragged on again. How much time could the pair of them possibly hope to go undisturbed though? It seemed as there was always someone looking for Clarke, and Octavia was due to go out with her hunting party this afternoon... never mind if Raven came looking to tinker with the electronics housed here.... Which was really the only think the mechanic ever did. 

“We should tell Bellamy!” blurted Clarke suddenly as the silence and tension got to her. 

Octavia flung her head around to stare at the blonde medic, her mouth open and eyes wide. 

“What? No!” the younger of the pair yelped in horror.

“How does that even sound like a good idea? If he should know, he would.” added Octavia aggressively. 

“So why us?” asked Clarke grimly. 

Octavia huffed, looking away in annoyance. 

“No, seriously, why us? You, me, and Finn. Why only us?” insisted Clarke. 

“We don't know it's only us, Clarke. Neither of us had a clue about Finn until he admitted it. I wasn't even sure about you until Finn died.” said Octavia annoyingly. 

“How did you know?” asked Clarke sharply. 

Octavia rolled her shoulders restlessly before answering. 

“Right away, you were making huge changes, I was sure of it that first day, but then I realized that I had made changes myself, and I don't know... I wondered if maybe it was just like... consequences, or random, or I don't know... You weren't the Clarke I remembered. You seemed... different. Not like you were the first time, but not the girl I last knew either.” the words were slow and considered, a bit unusual for the fast thinking, and quick tongued girl. She took a deep, centering breathe, that Clarke had see so many grounder warriors do when they readied themselves.

“But then Finn died, and you... I saw you sitting there, and when you opened your eyes... Wanheda was staring at me. I thought I was maybe imagining things still, but... I had to be sure then.” finished Octavia quietly. 

Clarke nodded gravely, accepting it. She felt more like Wanheda than that scared, and basically innocent girl she'd been the first time on the dropship. Most of the time, at least. 

“I had no idea about you, or Finn.” she admitted as she ducked her a bit from shame. 

“You and Bell got along so fast- soon as he heard you going off about the council, he was totally on board for dealing with you. You were basically started his whole “We don't need the ark” campaign so fast he didn't even come up with the “whatever the hell we want” idiocy. It was going well, and... hell, I still thought I was crazy.” muttered Octavia sulkily.

“I really think we should tell him, O.” reminded the blonde, not flinching at the harsh glare thrown her way. “Are you really sure he doesn't remember? He's been acting differently.” 

“That's on you. He was saying all the same things up until you started changing things. Now he's just reacting to you acting differently.” countered Octavia sharply. 

“But you could say that about everyone really. Hell, just the fact that the two boys didn't die in the crash could have caused everyone to change what they would have done.” replied the medic in annoyance. 

“Obviously. Do you really think anyone has been acting differently enough to think they might remember?” asked Octavia slowly. 

“Murphy.” blurted Clarke instantly, and O frowned in thought. 

“Yea, I think that one's on you too.” stated the dark haired girl finally. 

Clarke blinked a few times prior to gesturing curtly with her hand for Octavia to elaborate. 

“We'd barely landed when you instantly got on his good side by telling him that making weapons was a good idea. Then he wasn't even on the first trip out of camp before. This time he went. Of course then it went totally off-track, so...” argued Octavia.

“And he's been odd ever since.” agreed Clarke unsure. 

“More like- firmly, if still his sulking, defensive self, on your side ever since.” countered Octavia easily. 

The pair eyed other as they thought about the boy who'd been such an absolute terror last time, and while he wasn't exactly nice this time... 

“He follows me around a lot. Like.. whenever he's not on watch. And if he's on watch when I'm going out, he gets someone to switch with him so he can come too. I actually started timing my trips to when he's free....” admitted the blonde quietly. 

“Yea. I noticed. Everybody noticed. My brother can't decide if he's glad to have someone besides Jasper and Monty watching your back, or if he wants to drown Murphy for it.” agreed the other girl dryly. 

“The last thing we need is those two at odds again.” whispered Clarke aghast, paling at the remembrance of Murphy and Bellamy alternately attempting to hang the other. 

Octavia shook her head so hard her braids flew in the air just a bit. 

“Um, this has nothing to do with the camp, and everything to do with you.” she countered firmly, rolling her eyes when Clarke looked confused. 

“Never mind. Don't worry about it. They're fine.” announced the dark haired girl wearily. 

Clarke frowned at her heavily, but shook it off after a moment. 

“Ok, then, you never told me... did... you.... did you die, before you came back?” asked the other girl softly, and Octavia stiffened up so harshly she appeared like a grotesques statute of herself. 

“Octavia, we want to know if anyone else can back, and why this happened, right? But Finn and I both died, in different ways, ages a part, and you... you should have been safe in the bunker during Praimfaya... soo? So we really... really don't have anything in common that we don't with tons of others... ” insisted the blonde carefully.

“I died.” admitted Octavia harshly. 

Clarke remained silent and still. Waiting with blue eyes carefully trained upon the far wall. 

“I died. The death wave came, and... the Polis tower collapsed. It... well, the damage was enough to break the bunker's seal. Radiation seeped in. Before we even could really understand what was happening.” continued the dark haired girl once called Heda bitterly. 

“It didn't seem like horrible damage, but then we started getting sick within minutes. We hustled the children and as many of their parents as we could in the lower levels, and made them seal the barriers there. No idea if it would hold, though, or if they'd been able to survive long enough down there. Or if they were already too sick anyway. Basically, we were grabbing them and throwing them through the doors. I stayed up. We started trying to repair the main seal, and reinforce the interior seal between the levels but... we were dead within a half-hour.” finished the girl flatly. 

“So Praimfaya killed us both, and at least some of the bunker.” murmured Clarke wearily.

“Most. I don't know if any Skaikru made it into the lower level at all. We pushed women and children in first, and had the levels sealed in less than ten minutes. Maybe four hundred people got in. No way to know if they would have been ok there.” corrected Octavia bitterly. 

“I died in the lab, but it was several days... maybe a week after the death wave fell. I was just... to weak to pull through.” admitted Clarke, the shame she felt in this heavy. 

“And Finn died weeks before, in totally unrelated circumstances. I don't think there's any reason behind it being us three, and who knows if anyone else. Random. Totally damn random. Not to mention impossible.” pointed out Octavia tiredly. 

“The rocket's take-off went smoothly, and I got the satellite fixed... but it was still a risky attempt. I wish I knew if they made it...” murmured Clarke.

“We can rule out Bellamy, Raven, and Monty. Not so sure about Murphy or Harper.” commented the dark haired girl easily. 

“Those five could have been the only Skaikru survivors. There was Emori and Echo too...” remembered Clarke. 

“What if everyone died? Everyone outside would have anyway. The bunker probably couldn't sustain even the half that got into the lower level long enough, even if that seal held. If Raven couldn't manage the docking to Go-Sci in time...” murmured Octavia 

“The human race wiped out.” Clarke's words were tremulous as she tried to process that thought. 

“Maybe that's why... we have this chance.” wondered the younger girl. 

“But how?” countered Clarke sharply. 

“ALIE?” suggested Octavia after a brief pause. 

All the color in Clarke's face drained out, and her stomach heaved as a thought struck her. 

Gagging, she bent over, trying to calm down, and Octavia was suddenly kneeling beside her, yelping in worry and surprise, not that Clarke could answer her. Finally, after what seemed like an awfully long time, but more likely wasn't more than a few minutes, Clarke curled up against the wall again, trying to slow her breathing back down. Octavia huddled close, warm and comfortingly real, but... 

“What if this is just some sick trick of Alie's? Virtual reality, or simulation, or something like that?” asked Clarke hoarsely. 

Octavia flinched as that idea struck her, but shook it off brusquely. 

“Then we're screwed. Absolutely. But I'd rather act as if this is real, and try to save our people, than just give up.” stated the dark haired, once warrior firmly.

They stayed silent for a while, huddled against the wall, feeling the cool of the metal, and the warmth of each other, trying to decide if this was all actually happening. Or not. 

“Praimfaya's got to be our main concern, of course, but... short of kidnapping everyone we can get our hands on and holding up in the bunker before anyone else knows about it, I don't know what the hell to do.” announced Clarke with a touch more bitterness than even was normal for her, still low and hoarse. 

“And hope no one else remembers who'll do it first.” added Octavia grimly. 

“We need Bellamy helping figure this out.” reminded Clarke. 

“What about Mt. Weather?” asked Octavia instead of even acknowledging Clarke's comment. 

Wearily, Clarke waited for her to explain that question. 

“We could take over and have a second bunker option to save more people. It's max capacity is like five hundred, right?” explained Octavia. 

“Or we could not deal with that war until after Praimfaya. We don't even know if that bunker will survive either.” countered Clarke. 

“They'll never survive on the surface, and we could use-” began Octavia before banging cut her off. 

Someone was knocking heavily on the hatch, and Clarke groaned before standing up. 

“Miracle we got this long.” grumbled Octavia, joining her. 

As Clarke lifted the hatch, she looked down, with Octavia coming to look over her shoulder. 

An actual crowd, that seemed to consist of every single significant member of camp, was gathered at the foot of the ladder. They all stared up. Both girls grimaced down at the group while Clarke fought the urge to slam the hatch shut again. 

“What?!” snapped Octavia in annoyance from over Clarke's shoulder. 

“What are you two doing up there?!” snapped Bellamy in return while the others peered at them unsure. 

“We're lesbian lovers, and there are limited options for privacy around here!” snapped Octavia in return. 

Clarke hissed out an exasperated breath. Her fair cheeks went a bright, berry red, and she shifted in order to stomp upon the other girl's foot. Not that Octavia even flinched. 

Bellamy's face, despite his darker skin, flooded with embarrassment as well. Most of the others merely snickered. Murphy, in particular, looked fairly interested in such a development. 

“Was there something you all needed?” demanded Clarke flatly. 

Everyone started firing off at once, and the dropship was suddenly filled with way too many voices. 

“Derek's leg is probably broke-” chirped Monty. 

“The hunting group is waiting-” announced Sterling. 

“Totally was an accident. Idiot was just-” cut in Murphy. 

“I need to get up there to-” interrupted Raven. 

“Can I go-” added Charlotte urgently. 

“The girls are asking to go bathe in the river-” grumbled Bellamy.

“For earth's sake.” muttered Octavia, pushing at Clarke's shoulder to urge her down the ladder. 

Derek's leg was broken, which Clarke splinted and hoped for the best, Octavia lead out the hunting party, stitched up the idiot who'd walked into somehow gotten in the way of Murphy's spear, but thankfully only ended up with a gnashed foot, Raven settled back into her self-imposed isolation with the com center, and the various girls, Charlotte included, were put off the idea of going bathe in the river. For the moment, at least. 

As Clarke emerged from the dropship as the afternoon wore on, looking for Jasper who'd inexplicably disappeared, Bellamy left the smokehouse to intercept her. 

“Clarke, we need to talk-” he started off right away, but she kept going. 

“I do like girls, but I'm not sleeping with your sister, ok?” she spit out impatiently. 

Bellamy paused mid-step before his brain reengaged enough to catch up to her. 

“What, no, that's not what, I mean, I know, Octavia just-” he sputtered. 

“Likes to screw with your head, yea.” agreed Clarke absently. 

Day 15 

After having spent yesterday, from dawn till well past dusk, cleaning up camp except for the perhaps half-hour hiding away with Octavia, Clarke determinedly announced she was going out for a gathering trip after Bellamy had already left with a hunting party. It was near impossible to slip out alone though, and she wasn't lucky enough this time. Not only had Monty, Jasper, and Charlotte eagerly joined her, Murphy followed with that same bored stubbornness that she'd more or less given up on resisting- when it came to this at least. 

Lincoln dropped silently from the trees directly in their path before they'd gotten more than five minutes from camp. The others began to panic, but Clarke silenced them sharply with a harsh “Wait!”. 

Though there wasn't time to remark on it, the healer was comforted to see that not only had Murphy immediately pushed past her to stand in front of the group, but Jasper and Monty had shoved the younger girl behind them as well.

“Peace. I come to speak of peace.” murmured Lincoln sternly and Clarke saw the wonder flare in the eyes of her companions. Hope was what was threatening to kindle within her instead. 

“Heda has come, and requests Skaikru's presence tomorrow to forge an understanding between our people.” announced the Trikru warrior, and Clarke nodded immediately. 

“Skaikru will be pleased for such an opportunity.” she responded swiftly, before any of the others could figure out how to speak again in their surprise. 

“I shall return at mid-day to lead you and your companions to Heda. It is an hour's walk from here. Perhaps two if you are not accustomed to it.” amended Lincoln impassively. 

He was gone, vanishing into the forest, before she could even respond. 

Murphy, who'd remained in front of her, turned around slowly to stare at her blankly.

“Skaikru?” he asked flatly. 

“Sky people. It's what the Earth survivors have apparently named us.” replied Clarke softly. 

“Survivors.” repeated Murphy, his eyes flicking over her face, and around the forest. 

“Yea.” she agreed carefully. 

“Uhuh.” muttered Murphy. 

“Ummm, Clarke, how many times have you seen these... ahh... people?” asked Monty, baffled and still blinking in that slow, surprised way of his. 

“Once. The same one.” she nodded in the direction Lincoln had retreated. “Not exactly chatty. But Heda is the leader of their people, and they're willing to talk with us. So, I need to at least try.”

“And you didn't mention this before, why?” asked Murphy dryly. 

“I meet him at dawn as I left camp one morning. It was the day Finn... and after that, I'd forgotten.” whispered Clarke grimly. 

As they hurried back into camp, Bellamy's head came up urgently to look over them. 

“We're fine, but we need to talk.” announced Clarke, heading for the dropship without waiting to see if her reluctant partner followed.

He did, though, and while her entourage was sitting around the lower level of the dropship by the time he slowly made his way in, she'd evidently already gone up the ladder. Murphy smirked at him, and Bellamy just nodded, before heading up as well. 

He came up, and dropped the hatch behind himself, to find her sitting in front of the comm center patiently. 

“First, everyone should be glad to know that Roma is most definitely not pregnant.” she announced impassively as soon as the hatch was secured. 

“Some good news for once.” drawled Bellamy, though Clarke noted the relief in his voice anyway. 

“Yes, wonderful. Now it's time we get you pardoned.” she replied calmly. 

He scoffed, but she didn't even flinch or look away. 

“Seriously, princess? How do you expect to do that?” he asked flatly. 

“Simple. You know who wants Jaha dead, and he wants to know.” she announced so pleasantly as if discussing a pretty day rather than murder-for-hire. 

Bellamy scowled at her. Not that she seemed to even notice. There was only one other girl in the entire camp who didn't cower at his temper, and that was only because Octavia's temper was even worse than his. The princess... though... was much too unflappable. Sometimes he admired her for her sheer stubborn courage... just not when it was directed towards himself. 

Day 16 

Yesterday Clarke had sent out both water crews for an extra run, and one of the hunting parties as well, in order to have some extra in camp. Bellamy had stormed, and raged, and kicked the side of the dropship so hard his foot was bruised badly by morning, but in the end, he was waiting beside her when Lincoln came warily walking towards the gate. 

Finally, Miller had been left in charge of camp, but Monty was in charge of the dropship, with only Raven and Jasper allowed in the upper level of the dropship besides Monty while they were gone. The camp was to be locked down, with two of the watch crews on duty together, and no one leaving camp at all. 

Behind Bellamy and Clarke, Murphy was at Clarke's shoulder as always, with Charlotte, Wells, and Octavia behind them. It'd been an unpleasant argument over who would come, and who would stay, and who be in charge till they returned. 

Their journey, heading towards Ton DC, was definitely closer to two hours than one. It was worth it to finally get sight of the maybe three dozen tents, forming a temporary camp, awaiting them. 

Lincoln had barely spoken the entire trip, and admittedly, none of Skaikru had been particularly chatty. While Octavia and Clarke were likely the only ones who realized just how delicate this meeting was, none of the others was foolish enough to be lighthearted about it. 

The camp was definitely larger, and populated with dozens more people than before, though, Clarke had noted warily. At last, as they finally entered the camp, Lincoln had nodded his head gravely towards Lexa's own space. 

As Clarke walked stiffly towards the tent, one of the guards tossed a fur cloak across her shoulders.

They were nodding their heads respectively as they passed as well, and murmuring low greetings...

“Skai prisa!”, they whispered solemnly, and Clarke shoved down the impulse to flee as it felt as though electricity was coursing through her like a warning. 

Two mares, lightly packed, were held near the tent's entrance, by a proud looking warrior. 

“A gift of peace from Heda to the Skai Prisa.” he announced arrogantly, indicating with a short wave the fine horses whose leads he held loosely. 

“Gustus, they are magnificent. I am honored.” murmured Clarke slowly, gazing between the pair, which Clarke recognized as Lexa's own, and the waiting tent.

This... this was definitely not what her dreams had shown her. 

And surely this wasn't just the reaction she'd have gotten for not burning down a village with a flare... was it? 

Bellamy just looked gobsmacked, trying hard but failing to maintain his hard composure. As they finally neared the entrance, Indra's sword came down to block Bellamy. 

“Heda will see Clarke kom Skaikru alone.” intoned the fierce leader impassively, and Bellamy couldn't really honestly look any more surprised than he already had anyway... but Clarke stiffened up. 

“Indra, let him pass. We lead together. I will not enter negotiations without him at my side.” retorted Clarke coolly. 

“Heda is aware. Negotiations for the people will wait until after your meeting.” replied Indra sternly. 

Clarke looked to Bellamy, who frowned but nudged her on with just the slightest tilt of his head. Wordlessly, she nodded once back and strode confidently forwards. Her co-leader was left standing with Octavia, Wells, Charlotte, and Murphy, watching with a fierce glare, but those anxious dark eyes.

Inside, the tent's flaps dropping closed behind her, Lexa awaited stoically, and it was all Clarke could do to refrain from rushing at her. The image of Lexa, soaking her clothes with black blood, speaking of love and the next commander, shook her. To see the girl there, so well, in the prime of her command, was like a icy drenching on her soul. 

To stop herself from rushing the emotionless commander, the blonde dropped to her knees and bowed her head, just as she had once before in another life. But she couldn't help the gasp of her once lover's name that fell from her lips like worship. 

“Clarke kom Skaikru, the princess from the sky, I am told you speak of things you could not know. I am told you call my warriors from the trees by names never spoken to you. I am told that you are a prophet come to show us the way to defeat the Mountain Men.” stated Lexa, each statement more ironic than the last. 

Clarke remained on her knees, but she raised her head to meet Lexa's green eyes coolly. 

“I am just a girl who sometimes knows more than she can explain. I have no control over what I know, and my knowledge is sadly limited.” murmured the kneeling blonde respectfully, reminding herself this was not her Lexa- the one she'd loved, and hated. 

“No, that is not true, is it? You are Wanheda.” retorted Lexa, and Clarke flinched but her blue eyes grew wider and she lept to her feet closer to the seated commander. 

“Lexa?!” demand the stunned blonde leader frantically, and finally, the dark haired commander smirked. 

“As soon as Anya came, telling stories of a blonde sky person who knew more than was possible, I knew that you'd come back. I have waited a year for you, Skai Prisa.” replied Lexa calmly, and Clarke finally did throw herself upon Lexa, who caught her tightly. 

“I'm so sorry.” cried Clarke desperately, but Lexa squeezed her hard, pressing a swift, but passionate kiss upon the blonde's soft lips before leaning back into her throne, the blonde gracelessly kneeling across her lap.

“I am honored to have given my life for yours. My only regret is that you were threatened in my name. Now, you will tell me of what occurred after my death, and what has happened this time, but first... we shall see to the alliance, yes?” murmured Lexa smoothly. 

Clarke stood, and nodded, wet eyed but her face set. 

“Skaikru will become the thirteenth clan, yes?” asked Lexa. 

Immediately Clarke nodded, but bit her lip momentarily before replying slowly. “Yes, we will. But this time.. Skaikru is only those whom follow Bellamy and me. Arkadia is to be considered a fully separate people. I ask that you remember their treachery cautiously, but punish them according to sins they actually commit in this lifetime.” 

Lexa nodded. “Then we will call for the ambassadors. I have brought them all with me so that we may induct Skaikru tonight. Of course, you will bear the brand for your clan.”

“Bellamy and I-” began Clarke harshly. 

“He may be your equal in Skaikru, but among the coalition, there must be a single head.” snapped Lexa. 

“Then he can be the one to be hold the mark.” returned Clarke coldly. 

“No, it will be you, or no one, Clarke. You are the one whom knows what has happened.” replied the other girl stiffly, and Clarke glared, not verbally conceding, but the commander knew her well enough to know that simply ceasing to argue was agreement enough. 

“Go gather your people so that we may talk of the alliance, but once we have, we shall act under the open sky, where everyone may watch.” instructed Lexa more gently, and this time, Clarke did one curt nod. 

Clarke forced herself to walk confidently out of the heda's tent, to where Bellamy and the others were huddled together defensively, eyeing the large field camp of grounders with wary curiosity. Walking right up into Bellamy's space, she leaned close to him, and the others grouped around them quickly. 

“She has invited us to negotiate terms of alliance, and joining the coalition of clans.” murmured Clarke quietly to the dark eyed eldest of their people. 

“But?” prompted Bellamy.

“But she warns us that we must respect their traditions and rituals if we are to become one of them. As the leader of the coalition, we must honor her. If not, the best she will offer is a non-aggression pact.” continued the blonde quietly.

“That's good enough.” grunted the former guard cadet swiftly.

“No, it isn't. It would mean leaving Trikru's territory before winter, and finding a place for ourselves outside of any claimed land. We'd have to go west, and there are others there that aren't part of the coalition. Bell, we need this, and before the Ark comes down.” insisted Clarke, so quietly even their own group could barely hear her, her deep blue eyes locked solely onto Bellamy's.

He groaned, looking around them warily, but then back down into her deep blue... with a frustrated sigh, he nodded. She bit her lip, and he sighed again, this time just a single, breathed out- “Fine..” 

The thing with the blonde little princess was that her smiles were rare, and slow to come across her face. She was more prone to jaded smirks rather reminiscent of Murphy, and Bellamy himself, though he didn't realize it. When she did smile though, it was like a sun lightening up. 

“Let's go make a place for ourselves. All of us.” she urged then, wrapping a small hand around his forearm to pull him forwards into Lexa's tent. Clarke looked over her shoulder at their people, and nodded towards the tent. 

“You all, too. You're Skaikru's official delegation here, after all.” she informed them calmly. 

They lined up slowly in a row before Lexa, who was still sitting up her delicate throne coolly. 

“Bellamy kom Skaikru, my partner in the rule of Skaikru.” began Clarke firmly. 

“Octavia kom Skaikru, sister of Bellamy, the only secondborn child of our number.”

“Wells kom Skaikru, the Son of the Arkadia's leader, whom has instead sworn fealty to Skaikru.”

“John kom Skaikru, one of the eldest and a leader of our guards.” 

“And Charlotte kom Skaikru, my apprentice, and the youngest of our people.” 

Lexa's eyes were bright and curious, though her face stayed smoothly composed, and Clarke knew the others would never guess that the commander recognized them. Those brilliant eyes flicking swiftly over them let the blonde know that Lexa was comparing their appearances to the fates she'd known before. 

Bellamy, who'd stood by Clarke's side so faithfully, until he slaughtered an army sent to protect them. 

Octavia, the sky person who'd embraced the clan's ways as her own. 

Murphy, who'd been present at Lexa's own death, hovering silently at Clarke's side. 

Wells, whom Lexa had only been one brief mention of his death at the hands of a child. 

Charlotte, whom Lexa had only heard a mournful tale of the murderous child, who'd lept to her death to save Clarke's life.

“Your apprentice?” asked Lexa impassively. 

Clarke looked proudly at the young girl in question, and then nodded at the commander. 

“I am the healer for my people, and she is an eager hand at my side.” stated the blonde leader firmly. 

“My dear Costia is a healer apprentice as well. Perhaps she and yours might have an oppuranity to share knowledge.” announced Lexa. Clarke's jaw tightened in her only display of surprise. 

Costia lives. 

Lexa had been able to save her. 

And had not told her until they were surrounded by others.

“I believe that could be beneficial for both.” replied Clarke coldly with her eyes locked upon Lexa's emotionless. 

Before the sun began to set, Lexa ordered the entire populace of the diplomatic camp to gather near the massive bonfire being tended by Trikru. 

Clarke stepped forwards from Bellamy's side, with the entire coalition's delegation watching, for Titus to brand her arm. 

Seeing him again took her breathe away, but with a shudder, she ignored the memories threatening to overwhelm her right here.

“I bear it so they do not have to.” she reminded herself the moment before the stern flamekeeper pressed the scorching hot metal to her skin, and again once the pain had receded enough to allow a coherent thought. 

“We welcome Skaikru as the Thirteenth Clan!” roared Lexa victoriously.


	7. Times, They're A Changin

Chapter 7: Days 16-22

The Times, They Are A Changin 

Day 16

The celebration ran long into the night, but Lexa slipped away, signaling to Clarke, who grabbed Octavia as soon as the sky was fully dark. 

Inside her tent, Lexa sat not on her throne, but on a cushion on the floor, where the Skaikru girls joined her. 

“Tell me of what happened following my death, and of what has changed in this life so far.” instructed Lexa quietly.

Clarke and Octavia exchanged an overwhelmed look, they leaned close to each other. 

“I... It really wasn't so long between your death and the end. Just six weeks. But so much happened....” hedged Clarke. 

Lexa simply nodded with an expectant look in her eyes. The blonde chewed her lip momentarily before drawing Murphy's knife, and drew a shallow cut across her palm. The blood welled up, and Lexa's eyes fell upon it in awe. And confusion. The heda was well aware that Clarke had not been a nightblood. She'd witnessed the blonde's surprise and confusion upon first seeing split black blood, in another life.  
Silently she eyed the black blood for a long, starstruck moment, before her eyes returned to Clarke's set face. 

“Ontari, I, and Octavia all claimed the position of Commander, in turn, in the weeks between your death and Praimfaya.” whispered Clarke.

“My novitiates?” asked Lexa coldly. 

Clarke bowed her head painfully, even Octavia glanced away from them.

“Aden told me that you'd had them each vow their loyalty to Skaikru. To me. But Ontari...” Clarke's voice failed her as the vision of the dead nightblood children rose in her memories.

“Ontari slaughtered them all as they slept before the conclave could begin.” explained Octavia bitterly. 

“She presented Titus with Aden's head. Roan shielded me, warned me if she saw me, she'd have mine too. He did later sabotage my taking command though.” added Clarke quietly. 

Lexa nodded slowly, as if this was not surprising. 

“Titus... he gave me the flame instead, and bought me time to leave before he killed himself.” revealed Clarke slowly, pausing in remembrance, before she continued. 

“Ontari took the throne and Polis anyway. I became a nightblood through Luna's help, and accepted the flame for myself with Gaia pronouncing me as Heda. But Lexa... the flame... it isn't what you think but...” Clarke floundered, trying to figure out how to explain it... Octavia sat helplessly beside her. 

Lexa seemed deep in thought, and she was not urging the skaikru leader to continue.

“It is a matter of some chagrin and thought, but you must know... that I woke without the Flame. It is... dishonorable of me, but I have not informed the flamekeeper.” revealed Lexa finally, so grimly as if she was announcing the lose of her own soul. 

The silence at her announcement was thick with astonishment as she stared mournfully at Clarke, but the Skaikru pair stared at her with wide, baffled eyes. 

“Things must change.” stated Lexa so solemnly Clarke knew the commander was committing her very soul to the task. 

“The nightblood gave me some protection from radiation, and I think... maybe... if I hadn't been alone, if I'd managed to stay hydrated, had some help, I don't know. I think I could have survived the exposure in Praimfaya.” ventured Clarke. 

Lexa nodded gravely. “How did Roan sabotage you from taking command if Gaia announced you?” she asked suspiciously.

“Roan was there. He watched the experiments, and knew how I become a nightblood. In the middle of the ceremony, he revealed it to everyone. He said it was a mockery of the faith. Things spiraled from there.” she explained bitterly.

“Then no one must never know you were not born a nitblida.” murmured Lexa thoughtfully. 

“Why not?” asked Clarke.

“Because if such a time occurs again, we must allow nothing shall stand in the way of your ascension.” stated the commander so firmly that neither Skaikru girl knew what to say for a long moment. 

“And Octavia, how did you become Heda?” asked Lexa slowly. 

Octavia flushed, she'd been the first commander not of the blood, and the last commander at all. 

“After everything really fell apart, there was a bunker, in Polis. Room for twelve hundred. The clans were losing their minds fighting over it. So a conclave was held- winner takes all. Octavia fought as the Skaikru champion, Luna fought to force everyone to die by not allowing anyone into the bunker at all, and Roan... I think he would have saved me and a few of Skaikru. Not many though. Once I knew Luna was in it, a trained nightblood... I took over the bunker. Didn't keep it though. Luna killed Roan. Octavia won, and declared the bunker would be shared- every clan was given an equal number of spots. She became Heda because she won the conclave and lead the chosen of every clan into the bunker to wait out the five years.” explained Clarke quietly on behalf of her friend. 

“I failed. The tower collapsed upon us. The bunker was damaged, and we died in the death wave. Most of us at least, but... I don't see how the rest would have survived.” murmured Octavia painfully. 

“Eight people, Skaikru and grounder, tried to go back to the last piece of the Ark still in the sky. Their take-off went fine, but it was a desperate attempt. No way to know if they-” began Clarke. 

“Except I'd bet for this to have happened... everyone died.” cut in Octavia with an eerily easy-going confidence in her disastrous theory. 

“Everyone...” mused Lexa. “So we are facing the end of mankind in less than a year's time.” 

“There's time, though. We can make sure enough people live for mankind to go on. We pull down the tower, carefully, before Praimfaya. Let every clan have an equal number of chosen again.” suggested Clarke fervently. 

“Or keep the reactors from blowing at all.” reminded Octavia hopefully. 

“We can try.” muttered Clarke, who could remember Alie in her head, could remember the utter hopelessness of that idea. 

“Most pressing issue is not letting the mountain men kidnap us.” added Octavia. 

“We need guns, and watchers further out from camp...” mused Octavia. 

Day 17 

At first light, hunters had done out, mostly Trikru but each of the ambassadors sent at least one man. Clarke convinced Bellamy, Murphy, and Wells to go, bringing Charlotte along. 

They returned successfully, and shared a mid-day feast. 

Clarke and Octavia had spent most of the day in Lexa's tent, sitting close to talk discretely, apart from a final meeting of the ambassadors.

The coalition's ambassadors and their entourages were already departing for Polis after the feast, and Lexa's people were preparing to as well, when Lexa called Clarke, alone, to her once again.

“Skaikru must send a delegation to Polis, and you must be one of it in order for us to further discuss... these complications.” announced Lexa impassively. 

Clarke just rose a brow in irritation, but they had certainly not enough time last time to even really get into the looming disaster that was Praimfaya. 

“I can't leave yet. If the Ark comes down as scheduled, there would not no time for a trip, and I need to be here when Arkadia arrives at least. I really am not sure if they'll try to take us back by force.” retorted the princess sharply. 

“Then after they have landed, come to Polis, Trikru shall guard you on your way, and keep watch over your settlement for Arkadia's treachery.” countered the commander impassively. 

“I will leave Skaikru once I have gone to Arkadia, after I've prepared my assistants for my absence- that is, if Trikru will allow their healer to see to my people if need be while I am in at your court. I will bring Octavia, my apprentice, and three others as companions. ” she countered coolly. 

“Anya's healer will do so.” agreed Lexa easily. 

Clarke nodded stiffly. “I can only be gone for them for a short time. My people need me.” 

“Trikru will watch over your people to protect against the Mountain Men, and an earlier than expected arrival of Arkadia.” promised the commander quietly. 

“It is good to have Trikru on our side. I want Lincoln.” stated Clarke. 

With that curtly spoken, she turned from the commander to duck out of the tent. 

“May we meet again, Skai Prisa.” murmured Lexa quietly. 

“Heda.” agreed Clarke shortly without looking back before disappearing. 

Moving quickly, Clarke ducked into the first tent prepared for Skaikru just long enough to get the other girls packing, then into the second to get the guys set in motion as well. Staying here after Lexa left, if the others hadn't left already, didn't seem wise. Trikru was firmly under the commander's control, being her own clan, but the others... The horses were loaded down with what O discovered was mostly paraphernalia for them, plus the bundles of furs and skins, so Clarke and Octavia each lead one rather than riding. Still, they marched quickly from the temporary camp back towards home, with Lincoln silently leading them once again. 

Gathered around the fire that evening, the horses tied loosely enough to the inside of the wall that they could graze, the delegation group tried to answer the numerous questions being thrown at them. Though actually, it was more that Clarke, Octavia, and Wells tried to answer questions. Bellamy and Murphy were glaring at the entire population of their camp, and Charlotte was hiding behind them. 

“Shut up!” called Bellamy finally as the various voices drowned each other out yet again. His dark glare making it clear that he was done listening to the demanding racket. 

“Now, look, I'll be going to Polis, so I'll be able to tell you more when I get back!” yelled Clarke above the fray. 

The blonde princess pulled her jacket off, and raised her arm into the air. The dark, painfully fresh mark silenced even the most restless of the delinquents. 

“With this brand, I vowed Skaikru's loyalty to the Coalition. This commitment will be what keeps us alive. I will try to convince Arkadia to enter into the Coalition too, but that will depend upon them- not us. If Skaikru revolts, the first thing that will happen is my death for the failure. Then Skaikru will be crushed into oblivion by the twelve armies- thousands of trained warriors set on vengeance.” stated the young leader coldly

Bellamy stepped up when she'd finished. 

“We could not beat them, and so we have joined them. The smallest clan, and the newest clan, but we will rise from here!” called the eldest thunderously. 

Day 18 

Bellamy Blake was not a stupid man, though he would fully own up to some very stupid actions, and ideas. Neither his own cleverness, the quick thinking he'd been forced to develop to protect his baby sister, nor his intense training for the guard made this any easier to understand however. 

His baby sister, who'd never even meet another girl in her first fifteen years, had become so close to one that he rarely ever saw them apart except when Octavia went out with a hunting party. And that too was alarmingly unexpected. Clarke had coolly dismissed all the awe over her and Octavia's shared prowess with Earth skills as “gifted hand eye coordination”. But Bellamy wouldn't let himself buy into that. No one else seemed to know half of what they did, and while Clarke could be have perhaps been prepared for Earth personally by her treasonous father.... Octavia certainly hadn't been. Nor did it explain how the pair of girls had become so close so quickly. It wasn't that he disliked their friendship... in fact, he could easily say that the pair of blondes were... good to have around. After the ceremony, he'd been startled to confront just how difficult it had been not to lunge at the grounder who'd burned the princess' arm. But there was still something incredibly unsettling. He tried to tell himself it was just odd to see Octavia around others- making friends, getting into arguments, flirting. The way those two were oh so intensely wrapped up in each other though... 

“What's up with you two anyway?” asked Bellamy gruffly as Octavia broke away from the blonde medic and apprentice in order to join the hunting party waiting at the gate.

“I have friends now. Isn't that a good thing?” countered his little sister dryly. 

“It's more like you and the princess are sharing a brain now.” muttered Bellamy unpleasantly. 

“Jealous much, Bell? Ask nicely and maybe she'd share your tent instead.” asked Octavia mockingly. 

Before he could retort, she'd yelled for the gate to be opened, and it was quickly, for her to lead the hunters out. He stood there, watching it swing closed, and wondered how this girl was the same kid he'd hidden under the floor. By the time he looked back, the pair of blondes had disappeared back into the dropship. 

Once the hunters had returned, handing over the meat to the camp crew, and mostly dropping to rest with water, Clarke decided it was time for a meeting.

“Assemble the camp! Everyone!” yelled Clarke. A moment later, Murphy was at her side. 

“You heard her! Now!” he bellowed. 

Bellamy came from the wall, hustling along the delinquents. 

Octavia came from the smokehouse, harshly shooing along some that made the mistake of trying to dawdle in her sight.

Monty, Jasper, Charlotte, and Raven all came curious, and blinking, and wearing a her standard heavy scowl in Raven's case, stumbling into the sunlight. 

“Move your asses!” urged Murphy, sneering at those few who weren't hastening to the gathering.

Miller came from the fire- swiftly forcing those lingering there ahead of him. 

Of course Bellamy cut easily through the crowd, and circled behind Murphy and Clarke to stand at her other side. 

Clarke looked over her people carefully. 98 lives she valued more than she could even understand. 

“Listen up! Look around! These are your people. The people we came down here with. The people who have bled, sweat, and risked your lives among. These are our people. You should know every face. Every name. Know their strengths, learn their weaknesses, so that we can work better together because we are in this together. We are on Earth now, and we are not Arkadians! We are now the thirteenth clan of Earth!” yelled Clarke passionately. 

“We're our own people. They sent us here to die, but we REFUSE! We are the Hundred!” reminded Bellamy with his pride and sheer willpower bolstering his words so that the camp rallied into a roaring cheer. 

“The Hundred Clan of Skaikru!” cheered Octavia from her place at the front of crowd, a huge grin overtaking her. 

Bellamy's eyes found his sister's, and just for a moment, he saw the girl he'd tried so hard to keep happy for so many years. 

Day 19, Unity Day 

“Bellamy! Clarke! There's- grounders coming to the gate!” yelled one of the watchers.

Bellamy and Clarke, all but racing each other, with half a dozen others tripping over themselves in their wake, came rushing to the gate. 

“Open it, they're our allies!” snapped Clarke, and Atom warily obeyed, though only after a shooting Bellamy a look. 

By the time Atom had it swung open, the Trikru were very close indeed. 

There was Lincoln in the center of four others, all younger than him, Clarke thought. 

And all absolutely loaded down like a pack horse. 

They'd already set down some bundles in front of them as well. 

Atom was standing beside Clarke now, and Octavia had shoved her way in between the blonde and her own brother, while at least a dozen of the braver souls around were crowding behind them.

“To celebrate our alliance and welcome Skaikru to Earth, from Heda and Trikru.” announced Lincoln gravely. 

Though stunned at the sheer amount these five, hardly older than Clarke, if that for some of them, had apparently carried, Clarke felt a joyful grin spread across her face and for once did not feel the need to contain it. 

“I speak for Skaikru when I say that we are grateful to have joined with such honorable and skilled people. We thank you for your gifts.” she replied solemnly, but her beaming gave her away. 

At Lincoln's look to the one at his right elbow, the others began swiftly plunking down their loads alongside the pile already laid down. Once his fellows had unburdened themselves, and taken several long steps back towards the trees, Lincoln did the same. 

“How many shall your delegation number? We will provide a guardian for each.” inquired Lincoln in that grave seriousness. 

“There shall be six of us. Myself, with my apprentice, and Octavia of course, along with John Murphy, Nathan Miller, and Wells Jaha.” answered Clarke quickly. 

“Trikru shall return to offer protections upon your journey to Polis.” stated the young Trikru warrior firmly, before all five swiftly retreated. 

“Thank you!” called Octavia as they departed, before Clarke copied her, and a few others did as well, in fact, though not Bellamy certainly. 

“Let's get this inside, bring it all close to the dropship and we'll sort it out from there!” instructed Clarke. 

Perhaps it should no longer be so surprising how quickly many of her people listened to her in this time. Miller, Monty, Jasper, and Charlotte were the first to reach the now massive pile, and Clarke and Octavia followed, grabbing armfuls themselves, but by the time they entered the gate, more, even a grudging Bellamy, had gone to help as well. 

It really was astonishing that the five young men had managed to carry all of this, never mind the fact they'd done it all. Half a dozen swords, ten bows, and perhaps two quiverfuls of arrows for each, vials labeled in English, blank parchment scrolls, writing sticks, reams of plain cloth, looped masses of rope, what looked like upon quick inspection two healers kits, absolutely piles of skin, neatly coiled sinew cord, and numerous containers that perhaps only Clarke and Octavia alone could understand the value of really. 

Once it'd all be sorted through, for the entire camp to see, Clarke faced them again. 

“Ok, you lot, you all know what little resources we had until now, and you see what we've gained thanks to this alliance. We must never break this alliance. Everything will kept in the dropship as it's the best protection from rain and wind, but if you've got a need for it or an idea on best to use something, come to Bellamy or me. We'll need to be extremely conservative with using them because we can not expect Trikru to provide for us again. So we need to learn how to replicate these material ourselves, and figure out what we can trade with Trikru to get the things we can't produce. The parchment, for instance, I have no idea how to make.” she announced loudly to the crowd, which grumbled some but didn't openly object. 

“The bows will be for the hunters, but we will need more arrows quickly.” added Bellamy slowly.

“So anyone who's been crafting, or thinks they could, talk to Octavia or Bellamy about it.” stated Clarke, getting an exasperated look from her partner. 

Never able to sit idly it appeared, the princess soon had the camp back into motion, and then she turned her sharp blue eyes upon her partner. A lesser man than Bellamy Blake might have grimaced at having so much focus fall upon himself. The guard who'd barely had a chance to get used to the idea turned into rebel leader at a fallen princess' side, though, was too utterly stubborn himself for such sniveling however. 

“Got something to show you.” she murmured once she was close enough to not be overheard.

“Uhuh.” was the only response she got, and she rolled her eyes at his lack of interest. 

“Just trust me ok, you're gonna want to see this.” reminded the blonde princess sternly. 

Bellamy rolled his eyes, but followed, grudgingly, as Clarke marched quickly, as she did most things, tugging him through the gate out into the woods. 

Day 20 

If he was in a good mood, Bellamy might cheerfully call these two “his favorite girls”, and their sweet little shadow Charlotte too. The pair of blondes actually seemed to appreciate such teasing unlike his sister. The older of the blonde pair had even somehow found a minor army's worth of guns, so he certainly wasn't wanting to disagree with her too much. For now. But Earth was an exhausting place, and running the camp left Bellamy Blake rarely in a good mood. There wasn't even time to take a breath. The pair of girls, one his beloved sister, the other a partner he was becoming much too accustomed to, were too often in his face being obnoxious know-it-alls. 

Thus when he saw Octavia and Clarke, arm and arm, as they frequently walked about, whispering back and forth, when up to something, he more likely thought “the twin terrors” than any such fondness as them being his favorites. Night had fallen a couple hours ago, and the troublesome pair had put their little shadow to bed already. 

Groaning, he realized they were heading straight for him as he sat by the fire. When they arrived at his side, he first noticed his sister's flushed cheeks and scowl. Then the princess' coldly composed expression. 

“Bellamy, we need to talk.” announced the princess quietly. 

He wasn't so distracted by her that he could miss his sister's grimace. Standing up, he forced a nod, and wearily followed the tense pair. As Clarke ascended the ladder, Octavia suddenly made for the door. 

“This is your damn idea, you tell him!” she snapped without looking back. 

Half-way up the ladder, Clarke looked more weary than surprised the abandonment. Bellamy looked between the fleeing back of his sister, and their medic's tired eyes looking down at him baffled. 

“I don't know if she's more scared that this will make you do something dangerous, or that you won't believe us.” offered the medic wearily. 

“What the hell's going on?” asked Bellamy harshly. 

Barricaded inside the upper level, Clarke told him the basics, only. The idea. Not the details. No, the details were what made everything so damn awful. Sitting there, he just took it. Listened to her give the most insane, ridiculous story she'd ever imagined. His face didn't give much away, but his eyes... they spoke enough of his disbelief, shock, and absolute confusion. Yet somehow Bellamy Blake accepted the news with a jagged-edge composure- that part of him that just handled anything thrown at him rising up to face yet another trial. 

“What did I do?” asked Bellamy grimly. 

“What?” asked Clarke, turning to look at him better. 

“I thought... I thought my sister didn't believe me. About our mom being floated. That maybe she thought I'd forged mom's note to her. But that's not it, is it? I did something, that she remembers. That you remember. But I don't.” stated the hard eyed leader bitterly. 

Clarke cringed, but Bellamy pulled her chin up abruptly so she met his gaze. 

“What did I do?” he repeated quietly.

Clarke blinked her eyes slowly. 

“Bellamy, it... the things we did to survive do not define us.” she whispered. 

“How much is on my hands?” he asked.

“We shared the blood, Bellamy. You and I. Almost all of the blood we split we did together.”

“How many?”

“Each of us... around a thousand. Mostly shared.” she revealed. 

“How?” 

I burned three hundred alive as they attacked our camp. You nearly died along with them. 

Together we killed an entire bunker. They had nearly fifty of our people. 

I did not warn a village about a bomb dropping. Hundreds died. 

You followed Charles Pike, and with five other people, you slaughtered a sleeping army sent to protect us. There was only one survivor- left to give a message declaring war. 

“Octavia fell in love, with a man who protected her, and me, more times than I could count. The man you chose to follow executed her love for being born on Earth.” whispered Clarke. 

The Exodus ship plummeted down and crashed just as she remembered. At least this time she was fairly certain her mother wasn't on board. This time, she did not lead the search party, but instead sent Raven with a group of hunters and watchers.

Day 21 

Clarke, with Charlotte behind her, and Octavia sat mounted upon Lexa's horses comfortably. Well, Charlotte was perhaps more anxious than comfortable, but she was excited as well. 

Wells, Miller, and Murphy looked much less comfortable, even with both feet respectively upon the ground, standing so near the horses. Each of them had been surprised to be chosen, as nearly everyone had volunteered to go. 

“Wells, stick to Octavia. Miller, watch out for Charlotte. Murphy, you're with me.” announced Clarke quietly. 

“The buddy system, really, Princess?” asked Murphy dryly, and Clarke nodded curtly. 

Frankly, while she trusted Miller to watch Charlotte, and knew Murphy was perfectly vicious in a fight, thus she trusted him oddly enough at her own back, Octavia was really being tasked with watching out with Wells. Even if the chancellor's son was nodding dutifully like he'd been carefully watching out for the younger girl. 

To Bellamy, Clarke had to defend her choices. Octavia would not stand to be left behind, Charlotte went where Clarke did, especially as they'd have a chance to learn from Lexa's healers, she herself had to go as Lexa had instructed. Miller and Murphy were some of their most trusted watchers, and quietly Clarke had explained that though Wells had seemingly committed himself to their people, she preferred to show him the grounders' capital to... reinforce that. But Bellamy was much too needed to keep rein on the camp to leave for now. Later, Clarke, said, Bellamy would go to, to see the capital, and meet more of the survivors. 

He'd conceded, grudging and reluctant, and now he stood beside Atom at the gate, jaw and fists clenching like he was still tempted to forbid the entire endeavor, and yank them back inside the relative safety of the wall himself. 

Too late for that, however, as Trikru arrived, six mounted, the four who'd accompanied Lincoln, and two others, one more Lincoln's age than these teenage boys, and the eldest, obviously, the leader. The four youngest were leading dressed horses behind their own mounts. 

“Skai Prisa, we come to lead you to the Heda's city.” announced the elder of the pack. 

Within her chest, Clarke's heart stuttered in it's beat as she fought for self-control. 

Her first true kill stood before her. 

Caliban, whom had urged her to join his clan, seeking a new healer, and willingly bared his throat to her, before she'd kicked his injured knee out from beneath him and slit his throat. 

I slit a man's throat and watched him die. 

I am soaked in grounder blood. 

“Trikru provides mounts for your companions so that we may make swifter time upon the journey.” stated the second-oldest sternly. 

Charlotte burrowed deeper into Clarke's back, but Clarke smiled at her over her shoulder. 

“It's alright. I'll lead yours if you want.” whispered the eldest blonde gently, and Charlotte nodded eagerly. 

Octavia had already jumped off, with an ease that her brother noted in awe, and helped Charlotte from Clarke's horse.

One of the younger boys from a few days ago immediately came forward with a plump, gray horse to hand to Octavia. She quickly thanked them, and practically threw the younger girl onto the horse's back. 

Charlotte sat stiff, frozen, and wide-eyed, but Octavia was patting her leg comfortingly while leading the gray mare close enough to hand her reins up to Clarke. 

“Just hold on, with your legs, and you can hold onto her mane as well.” instructed Clarke calmly, watching her little apprentice grimace. 

The Trikru boys had already helped the other half of the Skaikru, very reluctantly, onto their own mounts, and as soon as Charlotte was settled at Clarke's side, one of the boys came, having taken a bundle from behind his own seat. 

To each of the girls, he handed a dark brown broadcloth cloak, with the deep hood Clarke remembered from Lexa's own wardrobe. 

“Among our clans, women will often wear hoods to keep hair clean, and eyes from the sun.” explained the boy in slow, hesitant English that meant he was clearly training to be a warrior. 

Clarke and Octavia shared an ironic glance, but pulled them on anyway, as did Charlotte, stiffly, as if unsure whether the slightest movement would cause her to crash off the mare. 

Plenty grounders also used hoods to not be recognized easily. It was why Lexa used them when traveling discretely, and why they'd likely been given them today. Looking behind them at Bellamy, who still stiffly watching, Clarke smiled briefly. 

“Good luck.” she said, rather fondly, in farewell, and he nodded harshly.

“Be careful.” he demanded more in warning than the warm fondness of her own good-bye. For some reason, she accepted it without grudge anyway. 

“We shall proceed upon your command.” stated Caliban impassively. 

Clarke nodded, but instead of answering, nudged her own horse, whom she'd ridden in another lifetime at Lexa's side, into beginning, leading the way herself.

Charlotte's fat mare, whom Clarke suspected was the eldest of the lot, easily followed along, only half a length behind Clarke's at her right, and Octavia quickly caught up to ride at her left. Neither girl looked back to see the looks of surprise from either their own clansmen, nor the Trikru escorts, who feel into parade behind them, the elders with one of the younger boys directly behind the trio of girls, then the Skaikru boys had awkwardly fallen into position making up a third row, followed by the last Trikru. 

“They do not look like they've been riding for a couple days.” muttered Miller. 

Clarke and Octavia had brought the other four out for a quick introduction to riding, but it had left them all more daunted that they'd been before it. 

“The princess is perfect at everything else, why should riding be any different.” grumbled Murphy unpleasantly upon a sand colored mare. 

“At least this means we'll get there faster.” interjected Wells, but the nauseous look on his face somewhat detracted from his statement- which the others ignored anyway. 

Bellamy stood with Atom and Sterling to either side watching the riders leave. His throat was tight, and his stomach clenched. Letting those three girls disappear from his sight made him want to puke at the sheer wrongness of it. He could barely convince himself he could keep them safe here, but to let them ride away from him... The youngest of their camp, their only medic, and his sister, worst of all. But honestly, if only to himself, he worried more for those two blondes than he could justify as simply being because they were respectively the vulnerable youngest of their number, and the deadly useful medic. They were Octavia's first friends, ever, and if something happened to them, O would be devastated. 

“It's like having two extra sisters. One's enough.” muttered Bellamy gruffly, more to himself than either of the boys standing with him watching the riding party get off to a slow, awkward start. 

Sterling looked at him curiously, and hopeful... 

“Is that how you look at Griffin? Cause-” began the boy before Atom cut in- “Shut up, moron.”. 

Bellamy looked between them darkly. 

“Leave her alone. All three of them. They're off limits to damn well everyone.” snapped the former guard, not liking what he saw. 

That night, arriving in Polis, well past sunset. 

“Heda was certain you would prefer to take meals in your quarters and rest tonight.” stated the stern faced adviser impassively as they were lead into the audience chambers, where Lexa was conspicuously absent. 

Clarke nodded heavily, muttering a quick agreement. Exhaustion was the only thing she could really think about right now, she was sure of it. Making the trip to Polis in one day had probably been a poor idea, but there was so little time, it had seemed such a waste to make camp on the way. Thirteen hours, most of it riding, but a few short breaks resting upon the ground, was the most painful thing she'd dealt with in months. 

“Three rooms have been prepared for your delegation. If you will follow me, Enya will escort your female companions to their accommodation, and Nim will escort your male companions to theirs.” announced Titus coldly, and Clarke had thought it would be harder to see him again. It really wasn't though. Caliban had a more shocking presence to be thrown back into, frankly. Or it could be that she was simply too worn out to get upset at the face of a man who'd given her time to flee before he'd killed himself. Of the man who'd killed Lexa.

“Actually, we have different arrangements.” she replied swiftly, but then paused. 

Looking thoughtfully over her motley crew of a diplomatic delegation, she was having to quickly decide how best to spend a week paired up. All she was sure at first was that she didn't want any of them alone, but it was more complicated than that considering the widely varying personalities, and relationships, surrounding her....

“Octavia and Charlotte, follow Enya. Wells and Miller, go with Nim.” she ordered firmly after a long hesitation as she'd silently deliberated. “Murphy, you're with me.” she'd added quietly, looking at him closely to be sure he wasn't about to- loudly- object. 

The entire room was looking at her, and she frowned heavily at them all to cover up her own lack of confidence. 

“Alright.” agreed Octavia slowly, taking Charlotte's hand and moving towards the petite little serving girl, who couldn't have been more than twelve herself. 

“Are you sure?” asked Wells suddenly, looking between Clarke and Murphy suspiciously. 

“Yes.” snapped Clarke sternly, and the much taller teenager flinched at her tone, nodding in agreement, following behind Miller, who'd done nothing but raise a brow at the instruction, and the serving boy who was even younger than the girl. 

Murphy was pointedly not looking at anyone, while Titus stared down at Clarke sternly, before giving a single, curt nod of concession, turning his back to them in order to lead them to the third room. 

It was her room.

The room Lexa had given her, in another lifetime. Clarke stifled a painful gasp, as the memories of that other life flooded her suddenly. 

Titus had bowed himself out silently, and the doors were shut firmly, by the time Murphy met Clarke's gaze. 

“I'm sorry I didn't ask, but we can switch up if you'd rather.” she stated quietly, and he just shrugged. 

“Whatever, it's fine. I can take the floor.” brushed off the defensive boy grudgingly. 

“The bed's huge, and we might as well enjoy actually having a bed while we're here.” countered the blonde firmly, claiming a side of the bed, and taking off her boots there before heading for the food laid out on a low table that had arrived just before them. 

Murphy was watching her warily. 

“Seriously. Take the other side. It's fine.” she added dryly, and he finally nodded shortly without another word. 

1st Morning in Polis (Day 22) 

“My guards would be accommodating to spend these days in a brief training period with any of your companions whom you wish to. In addition, your apprentice could put her time here to good use as well. Mornings with the healers, and afternoons with the children in their training. Costia, and Aden, would be suitable guides, I assure you. Of course, she may be accompanied by whomever you use as well.” announced Lexa calmly. 

Clarke stiffened up at the thought of her crew being separated, here, in such a volatile place. 

But the moment she glanced at Charlotte, whose entire face had lit up in curiosity, and the others, who all looked to be trying to hide varying degrees of interest, the elder blonde sighed quietly. 

“Charlotte can join the healers, and the nitblidas. Octavia I will need here with me some, and the others will need to switch off accompanying Charlotte, but they all can take turns to train with the guards” she agreed stiffly, frowning thoughtfully, but not quite willing to deny them this opportunity. 

Lexa smirked, and nodded at Clarke's concession. 

“Excellent. Caliban, escort the Skaiprisa's apprentice to the healing center, and then to the nitblidas to join them for their afternoons. Stay with her.” ordered Lexa swiftly. 

Clarke squeezed the younger girl's hand firmly before releasing her, and Miller peeled off their huddle automatically to follow her. 

“Titus, show the Skaikru guests to the guards, and give them my orders.” continued Lexa. 

Murphy and Wells much more hesitantly followed Titus out of the room, leaving Clarke and Octavia alone with the commander. 

“Close the doors!” barked Lexa loudly, and slowly, they could hear the guards outside the doorway sealing them. 

“That shall keep them occupied.” stated the commander calmly. She glanced at Octavia thoughtfully. 

“Indra will remain in Polis for the time being. She will instruct you when you are not otherwise busy.” she revealed quietly. 

Octavia's face hardened up, but she met the commander's gaze unflinchingly. 

“I think the first thing is we need to try preventing the reactors from blowing.” announced Clarke.

Second Night in Polis (still day 22) 

Knowing that Lexa had a guard at the door at all times was only a vague comfort. 

Titus and Gustus had been Lexa's most trusted, after all. 

The night before, they'd been so exhausted by that really terrible idea of making the ride in one day Clarke knew that her fault- she'd made the call, and every muscle still ached from it. But somehow tonight, though the day been full and harried, they were not so tired that they dropped into sleep seamlessly. They'd fallen into bed having stripped down to the essentials.

But Lexa provided clothes for them all, and Clarke noted that once again, a few of Lexa's nightgowns are waiting for her. So tonight, she'd slipped into one after Murphy had crawled into bed. 

An hour passed, then two... 

Neither slept. 

They lay silently, with a huge chunk of bed empty between them, for longer than Clarke could possibly keep track of. 

The silence was heavy and taunt, smothering her in the tension. 

Finally, shocking her like almost as badly as live wire, Murphy cut through the stillness of the room, his words low. 

“So, princess, are you gonna stab me if I touch you?” he asked mockingly, very pointedly not moving even a fraction closer to her. 

Clarke actually laughed once she got over the silence being broken. 

There wasn't even a thought in her head to stop him. 

For once, the risks, the logic, the outcomes be damned. 

It felt quite a bit like throwing herself off the dam. 

If this was the edge of reason, then she prepared to throw herself from it. 

First shaking her head, she then realized that even with the couple of candles still burning near the door, he might not be able to tell and so she murmured “no” as confidently as she could manage. Silence fell, but just for a moment. Suddenly he reached out and pulled her towards him. Which of the two was more surprised that she allowed it, they didn't know. For a moment he simply held her against him and tried to see her blue eyes in the faint candlelight. 

Life was not a love story. Especially for the commander of death. 

It was working till you break, walking through flames, and choking on your own blood. 

John Murphy did not love her anyway. 

But there a loneliness burrowed deep that she could deny, but not rid herself of. 

Clarke wasn't sure if he'd seen whatever he was looking for, or if he merely went ahead anyway but his lips on hers were softer than she could have expected. 

“So princess, what's your order for me?” asked John Murphy with his lips still close enough to faintly brush hers as he spoke, teasing, and softer than she could have expected from anyone on this Earth. Much less a boy who'd once held a knife to her throat- in another life.

“Don't let go of me.” she ordered urgently, desperately, with her hands coming up to his shoulders and digging in like she was holding on for her life. 

Against her lips, he smirked. There was lava stirring in her veins, and Clarke stretched her sore body out before molding against his even closer.

“As you wish.” he murmured mockingly. 

Then his lips were back against hers, and she was pushed swiftly back onto the pillows.

The gentleness was gone, but she preferred the fire anyway. 

His lips harshly made a trail down her body till he knelt between her legs. Raising his head, his face was in shadow cast the candles stood behind him. Clarke could still feel the heat of his gaze, and the weight of his wariness. 

“Princess?” he asked gruffly with roughened hands gripping her soft thighs. 

Suddenly, Clarke wished there were more candles lit so that she could see more of this. 

“Hurry up.” she snapped quietly, and when he laughed, that low little rumble of dark amusement, she stretched out again, spreading her thighs further temptingly. 

“I live to serve, princess.” he muttered sarcastically. Spitefully she opened her mouth to retort, but then his own mouth was at the center of her and maybe he hadn't been mocking after all.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a short update because there's a big scene that was supposed to be at the end which I haven't finished. I moved it to the next chapter so I could go ahead posting this. As always, let me know what you think.

Chapter 8: Days 23-25 

Day 23 

Banging erupted, harsh, but brief upon the door. They both startled, but it took Clarke only a moment to remember where they where. It appeared that dawn had only just begun to stream into the room. Hustling out of bed, Clarke grabbed a robe provided by Lexa. Wrapping herself quickly, she headed for the door suspecting it was simply the arrival of breakfast. Groaning, John sat up in bed silent and shirtless. 

The petite little serving girl, Nim, whom Clarke had known in another life scurried inside with a tray. It was loaded down with fruits, sausages, bowls of soft grains, honey, bottles of juice and milk, and was simply what Clarke knew of as breakfast under Lexa's roof. Considering the portions sent up, the commander either wished for Clarke to fatten up, or for her to be burning many times the amount of calories she normally did. Pointedly not looking anywhere near the rumpled bed, or the boy in it, Nim set down the heavy tray carefully before fleeing. Clarke barely stifled a laugh as she imagined Lexa's staff gossiping. 

“This room service isn't hard to get used to.” announced Murphy. 

Clarke's laugh slipped out then, light and soft, and John grinned at having caused it. 

She'd picked up the tray, surprised as always that the slim girl had carried it so gracefully, and brought it to the bed. As she sat down, she crossed her legs and tried to nonchalantly drape the robe. Murphy hadn't mentioned them yet surprisingly, to her gratitude. There was no easy explanation for the scars. Until him, only Octavia had seen the peculiar swirling scars that were the worst on her legs, but covered her lower abdomen, and back as well. They were odd even for Clarke whom knew well how they'd begun. Smooth and soft, like they'd been instantly healed, but not vanishing, upon her... return. Octavtia had said they looked like red and pink tie-dye. She did wonder what they looked like to someone who didn't know. 

How many barely-past-dawn meetings would they be pulled into? Lexa apparently believed each day should begin this way. Clarke's patience was waning swiftly as they observed the ambassadors arguing again. It wasn't until she felt the steely presence of Murphy at her shoulder, his shoulder pressing against hers from behind, that she realized. 

In all the times since Dickson's “accident” that John Murphy had taken up this position of defensive sentinel and otherwise followed her like some sort of sulking bodyguard, he'd never touched her. 

Oh, there had been that panic-fueled moment where he'd shoved past her to put himself between her and Lincoln, but otherwise, he'd stayed close, yet apparently purposefully not actually in contact. 

Yet for all the dangerous warning that was his default mood, there was something hesitant and unsure about the brush of his shoulder against hers. 

Like he wasn't sure she'd allow it. 

The moment she realized that, she leaned just slightly into him as well. 

There was no way she'd let herself look like some silly lovesick girl here in the Commander's audience room, or perhaps, anywhere, really. 

The idea that he was so wary of rejection still spurned her to reassure him as much as she could for now. Lexa's green eyes flicked over them, though she didn't even pause in her speech, just enough to let Clarke know that her once-lover had noticed the way she and Murphy were pressing close together. But the commander was a hyper-observant, sharp eyed figure. Not to mention how her eyes always followed Clarke so intensely. Of course, her servants may have reported to her- likely through Titus... 

As they turned to leave, business concluded, Clarke discretely slipped her arm through Murphy's, to nudge him alongside her instead of that half-step behind he was prone to. He did falter, shooting her a look that she didn't quite know how to read, but she simply nodded to him. It was enough for him to go along with it, though. 

Day 24 

It was two hours past dawn when she was called to Lexa this morning at least. Wells and Charlotte were already with the healers, Octavia, Miller, and John already in the guards training yard. Not even Titus waited with Lexa when Clarke arrived. 

“Lexa.” greeted Clarke easily. 

“Trikru proposes a marriage to bind Skaikru and Trikru together even closer.” stated Lexa in that ever-controlled, smooth way of hers, not one to waste time chattering needlessly. 

Stiffening up, Clarke's eyes narrowed suspiciously from the moment the word “marriage” fell from the commander's lips. 

“Skaikru does not believe in arranged marriages.” she snapped curtly. 

The Heda nodded briefly, her face impassive. 

“I am aware. It would be a marriage freely chosen, but it shall still serve to bind our people closer together.” countered Lexa easily. 

“What are you getting at, Lexa?” asked the blonde waspishly. 

“Lincoln kom Trikru would willingly bind himself to Octavia kom Skaikru. In this life, he serves his clan without dishonor, though if he was forced to choose between the girl and his clan... I believe we are both certain where that will lead. Their match would make our own clans kin. The tie would be an even greater bond than the coalition itself has forged. Should the coalition fall, our clans would remain united.” explained the commander quietly. 

Clarke froze. 

The idea of Octavia's reaction if she didn't agree... 

Of Bellamy's if she did.... 

There was a wrenching in her chest as she considered her own ties to each of the siblings. 

Ducking her moment for a moment to compose herself, Clarke drew in a sharp breathe before looking back up to meet Lexa's bright eyes. 

“Octavia is only sixteen.” reminded Clarke dismissively. 

“Old enough to marry, even if she was not already an ambassador and warrior. Many women her age are already mothers. Your people are all young, but they are not children.” countered Lexa.

“My people do not wed before 18. Arkadia killed girls for becoming pregnant before eighteen for four generations. They have killed women for bearing a second child. Octavia was raised beneath floor boards to save her life, and when she was discovered, her mother was killed, and she was added to the Hundred. The trauma could mean she never wishes for marriage, or children.” explained Clarke sternly. 

“More reasons explaining Skaikru's loyalty not to Arkadia, but to coalition.” murmured Lexa smugly. 

“Octavia remembers. Lincoln does not. This is not something you and I can decide on their behalf.” stated the Skaikru leader coldly. 

“Will you oppose it?” inquired Lexa smoothly, causing the other leader to eye her warily.

“I won't stand in the way, but they must freely chose it. And Octavia will not be expected to have a child until, and only if, she decides. Bellamy will not be happy about it- especially if there is any connotation of it being arranged.” decided Clarke slowly. 

“He is not her father nor her chief.” reminded Lexa shortly.

“They are the only siblings among our people, and he has been tasked with her protection since she was born.” snapped Clarke defensively. 

“When you return to your settlement, I will send with you a message for Lincoln. He shall come to Polis and serve with my guard.” declared Lexa, ignoring the last statement completely. 

Clarke glared, but slowly nodded, her hands clenched at her sides in stress. 

“That will give him and Octavia a chance to...” trailed off the blonde.

“To reunite.” finished Lexa knowingly with a smirk emerging.

Clarke flushed a bit. 

“I must admit I am envious of my clansman for the opportunity.” remarked the commander causally. 

Clarke's glare reignited instantly.

“I have no idea why since you're already reunited with your own lover.” she snapped curtly. 

Lexa frowned lightly, shaking her head. 

“Her pyre I lit myself. I then mourned and avenged Costia. Accepting that our time together was finished was difficult, but I did so. It will never be the same as-” began the commander quietly. 

“I know! Don't you see that I know that? I watched you die! I stood with Aden at your wake! I mourned you! Now I stand before you, and things will never be the same! I know how you look at Costia because it's how I look at you!” cried the Skaikru girl brokenly. 

For once, Lexa's face showed her pain, as her eyes darkened miserably. 

“Lexa, I love you!” declared Clarke desperately. “But you died at my side. Because of me. When I died, I heard your voice calling me to the other side. I did not even want to survive because I could almost see your face again as I lay dying.” 

“It was not your fault. My feelings for you are changed by neither time or death.” murmured Lexa painfully. 

She finally rose from her throne, coming to kneel before Clarke as she had in another lifetime. The skaikru girl silently accepted Lexa's hands encasing her own, but closed her eyes against the sight of the commander submissive at her feet. 

“Our marriage could be the tie that binds our people tighter. You could stand at my side for us to lead together.” whispered Lexa solemnly. 

Tears began to stream down Clarke's face silently, but she kept her eyes closed. There was no way she could stand to look at the face she'd missed so desperately for so long. She couldn't block out how Lexa's hands tightened around her own though, nor that beloved voice that still echoed in her mind so often. 

“Lexa, I did not come back to push Costia from her position in your life.” pleaded the Skaikru princess. 

Swiftly, Lexa raised their joined hands to her lips to press a firm kiss upon Clarke's. 

“It is yours. The place at my side belongs to you already.” countered the commander sharply, looking back up from their clasped hands to the other girl's face. 

“Clarke kom Skaikru, I love you. I have died, and returned, for you.” whispered the dark haired enigma that Clarke had loved, and lost, seemingly endlessly. 

Clarke's blue eyes, gleaming with heavy tears, finally opened and she stared down. 

Lexa kom Trikru had never been so beautiful as she was with shining eyes, emotion etched upon her slim face, acknowledging what she'd once believe to be mere weakness. 

“Maybe this isn't a second chance. Maybe... maybe this is purgatory.” thought Clarke brokenly, unable to turn away or even close her stinging eyes against Lexa. 

“I love you, Lexa. Of course I do. It doesn't end... even in death, but things have changed too much.” conceded Clarke, and the commander proved just how little submission there truly was in her kneeling because in only a breathe, she'd risen to wrap her arms around the sky princess. 

As Lexa's lips found her own so swiftly, Clarke sank into her arms, and the audience chamber spun around her head leaving her breathless. Maybe this life was purgatory, but heaven was Lexa's arms. The commander urgently slipped her lips down to her neck, igniting every inch of Clarke in warmth...  
Wrenching backwards, Clarke stopped only when her back hit the doors. Lexa looked astonished. Frozen in place where Clarke had left her in the middle of the room. 

“That was another life. Now you have Costia, and I have John. Don't touch me. Don't- just don't.” ordered the blonde in voice like quiet ice, trembling so awfully that Lexa could tell from half-way across the room. 

Want, and fury, and that remembered grief rising up to swallow her all over again. A bitter sob tore it's self from her throat and the sheer of humiliation of crying in front of the commander goaded her into action. Clarke stumbled as she forced herself to yank one of the doors open. From Lexa, and the chance the dark haired girl offered, Clarke fled like death itself was chancing her through the halls. 

Unfortunately peace was not to be hers yet tonight, because when she stopped at the girls' shared room, she found Charlotte unhappily curled up sulking. Something in the girl's evasiveness sent warning shivers down her spine. 

“Charlotte, tell me what's wrong.” finally ordered the young leader firmly, all gentle efforts having utterly failed. 

Charlotte licked her lips nervously, but met her mentor's eyes directly despite her slim shoulders hunched defensively. 

“I won't kill him again. I'm sorry.” stated the youngest of the one hundred sincerely. 

Beneath Clarke's feet, the world was titling dangerously, making her dizzy and breathless. 

“Charlotte?” she gasped desperately. 

“I promise I'll be good this time. I'll do anything you say.” whispered the young girl mournfully. Clarke stayed until the young girl went to sleep, and then waited on the lounge for Octavia to slip quietly into the room. 

“Charlotte remembers.” revealed the young leader flatly. 

Octavia rushed to huddle beside her on the couch. 

“So... Finn gave himself up, knowing it meant his death, to keep us all from being killed. Didn't you say Lexa made Titus give a vow in repentance for her death? A vow to protect you? I died trying to save those we got into the lower level... you died because you were trying to save Bell and the others. And Charlotte-” 

“Threw herself off a cliff because there was a knife at my throat. The last thing she said was about not letting anyone else get hurt because of her.” finished Clarke.

“So, sacrifice...” mused Octavia.

“Lexa didn't mean to get into the way of the shot, but I think she was coming because she heard gunshots and was worried about me. Going willingly into death for your people.” whispered Clarke reverently. 

Octavia looked somewhere torn between pride and horror. 

“Who else fits that description? Didn't Titus die to keep Ontari from ascending?” asked the dark haired girl uneasily. 

Clarke hummed- that low, dangerous sound of death, but then shook her head. 

“No. He'd already given me the flame, and some time to escape. From what Murphy said, Titus died saying “for Lexa.” explained the young leader grimly. 

“But Lexa was already gone...” began Octavia hesitatingly.

“So it was more spite, and revenge, and saving himself from the torture Ontari was sure to put him through. Understandable, of course, but not exactly the same.” concluded Clarke with an odd certainty. 

They sat quietly to consider that, listening only to the soft, even breathing of their shared charge across the room. Neither had suspected the young girl. Of course, in this life, she was very different, but Clarke and Octavia both had been looking out for her from the very first day. 

“Every one of the champions in the final conclave. Hundreds of warriors from every clan.” pointed out Clarke in confusion. 

Octavia frowned at that. 

“Is fighting going willingly into death? Or just a willingness to risk death?” she asked thoughtfully. 

It was Clarke's turn to frown, but she nodded. “I guess it's a willingness to risk death. And that is something that half the people on this earth have died because of. But going willingly into death... I guess that not so much...” mused the blonde. 

“Not many people give themselves up to the guarantee of being tortured to death. Not many people fling themselves off cliffs to end a fight over them. How many people use their last breathes to secure allies? Or lay down accepting death only after they've done everything they can to save every last person they could?” reminded Octavia proudly. 

“Or stay on the other side of a hail mary trying to give those within a better chance?” added Clarke. 

“Honestly, if that's what... earned us this chance... then it's a surprise that there are so many of us. Four of us out of one hundred and two. Yet Lexa seems to be the only one out of her thousands.” muttered Octavia.

“We don't know that no one else remembers though. For all we know, half the grounders could...” objected Clarke anxiously.

Octavia huffed. “Until there's some actual sign of it, or until we know... we're going with what we do know.” 

“The grounders are warriors. Even Luna, though she tried not to be. They'll die for their people, but they don't just accept their deaths. They fight it.” blurted out Clarke suddenly. 

“Whereas the five of us actually accepted it?” muttered Octavia unsure. 

“Finn could have kept trying to hide. Lexa could have been raging at Titus, or crying with me, or calling for help... Charlotte could have stayed behind Bellamy and let him try to save us all. You could have ducked into the lower level, or bemoaned your fate, but you kept trying to help them. You could have tried to secure the seals from within the lower level. I could have forced myself up to keep trying to survive. But we all accepted our deaths, thinking them well-used.” whispered the Skaikru leader solemnly. 

It was late when Clarke slipped out of the room, and she found Murphy sitting on the floor across the doors. He smirked before yawning, and stood up. 

“Done for tonight?” asked John mockingly, and she smiled for just a moment. It was only after watching that last ditch chance of a lift-off from the planet, and then a year in solitary alone with her thoughts that made his sharp teasing enjoyable. 

“Yea.” agreed the young leader tiredly. 

Day 25 

The four gathered together in Lexa's chambers alone just after breakfast at dawn. 

The guards were under strict orders to remain outside the doors, and prevent anyone from entering, upon threat of the death of a thousand cuts. 

John, Wells, and Nathan had all been sent to the training yard for a full day's. 

Costia had been warned that Lexa would be busy until nightfall. Clarke pointedly ignored Lexa's quiet statement that the young healing apprentice would not be inconvenienced as she had her own quarters. 

“As soon as I have extracted the bone marrow from you, I will prepare it and inject Charlotte. Once we have recovered, I will have Octavia extract it from me, and then I will prepare it and inject her.” 

“Skaikru having three nitblidas among their number will raise your status. But you must not reveal that you were created rather than born.” reminded Lexa grimly. 

“I wish we could do everyone but... I'm not even certain how if it will work for Octavia coming from me... and there's no way we could do thousands of people in 170 days...” murmured Clarke. 

Lexa had barely shaken off the anesthesia before she dressed and went to attend to her duties, with only a small smirk to Clarke as her good-bye. 

By the afternoon though, she found Clarke, watching the nitblidas practice with their swords. The youth were paired off, shining with sweat, but silently going through the sparring with well-practiced ease. Each ringing clang made Clarke frown a little deeper, and she watched Charlotte intently. The girl, pale and clammy, should have been resting. Her stubborn refusal to sit out had been the first show of rebellion in their time on Earth though... Somehow... it pleased her mentor enough, to see the child showing a bit of backbone, that she'd gotten her way. 

“I told Charlotte she should just watch today, but she couldn't stand to sit it out.” murmured Clarke as she felt Lexa's presence silently arrive at her side. 

Aden at least had heeded Clarke's words that the girl had had an exhausting morning, and was being terribly deferential. The younger blonde might not notice, but the elder certainly had, that the other novitiates were eyeing her... There was something scornful in their assessing gazes that reminded Clarke that these were essentially children raised to kill. Each other. 

“There is a strength within her for her to dive into such a different world so readily. You would not know to look at the child that she has been yours only a matter of a few weeks.” replied Lexa generously. She too was watching the training, though it was nothing out of the ordinary besides the inclusion of Charlotte. 

“She just needed a chance, and for someone to believe in her. Octavia and I have been teaching her everything we can since the first day. I will do everything I can for my people, but we are so unprepared for life on the ground.” whispered Clarke. 

With a sudden lunge, and a ringing hit, the little blonde knocked Aden's sword from his hand, and nearly dropped her own the moment she realized. Charlotte stood there gaping at Aden anxiously, one hand clenched on the hilt of her borrowed sword, and the other worrying at the hem of her shirt. 

But Aden just laughed, and smiled, snatching up his sword and playfully bowing to her. 

“Your first success!” he cheered approvingly, and the little Skaikru girl slowly grew a smile of her own, looking back to make sure Clarke had seen. 

In fact, Clarke and Lexa were both walking towards them, the blonde beaming, though the commander offered only a small smirk. 

“You're learning quickly!” enthused Clarke proudly towards her own personal favorite, before looking directly at Lexa's. “And Aden, you obviously are gifted teacher. Thank you.” 

The young boy didn't answer, but nodded with a hesitant smile.


	9. Chapter 9

Days 27- 32 

Chapter 9 

Day 27 

Darkness had fallen over the Hundred camp hours ago. A week without the princess was coming to an end... It should have felt like a relief to not have her marching about giving orders, and constantly, constantly, constantly involved in everything, everywhere. It was, truly. Without the three girls he worried about most around to look out for, Bellamy's weight of responsibility felt infinity lighter. The delinquents wanted to stay up half the night drinking, meaning they went out hunting the next day sleep deprived and hung over? Live and learn, kid. 

They wanted to go swimming in the river? Whatever, long as your work's done first. They wanted to go exploring in the woods? Yea, don't get lost and get back before dark. Neither his sister, nor the youngest of the group, nor the medic were around to get caught up in any of the bullshit, so letting the rest of the brats run a little wild was harmless stress relief. The extra rowdiness about camp seemed a good distraction for the absolute insanity Clarke had dropped on him before leaving anyway. 

Yet here he was. 

Standing by the graveyard. 

When the princess left, there had been three graves. Every single night since it's creation, she'd head out there instead of getting dinner. Murphy, or Octavia, or even Charlotte, would eventually go out after her. She'd walk back through the gates like nothing was wrong. Grab some food, sit by the fire, and go on. She did not speak of it, or those lost. There were no tears, nothing but a grim determination that Bellamy could not deny, to himself at least, that he was in awe of. Blonde, and beautiful, and raised the little princess, she was a hurricane of will that he simply couldn't fathom. What had molded her into such a blazing strength? 

Here he was standing by the graveyard, knowing that she should be home tomorrow, and she was coming back to six new graves. Failure was squeezing his heart and lungs, and Bellamy wasn't sure he was going to survive seeing her face when she saw that the graveyard had tripled in size while she was away. For a week. Just a week. 

Dax and Mbege, sixteen and fifteen. Those two he didn't feel so bad for. It was their own fault for trying to claim the guns for themselves. He could live with their deaths. 

Dickson. That weighed a little heavier on his shoulders, but only because he'd been the one that held the gun for the execution. 

Steve Woodley. An allergic reaction as some of the youngest kids were out exploring in the woods. His throat was swollen closed, and he was dead before anyone could even think. He was fourteen. The rest of the group had carried him back crying. 

Sixteen year old Angela drowned when a bunch of the girls had gone swimming. They left her by the river to come running back to camp. Bellamy had grabbed Atom to go back and carry her home, but that grounder who'd been keeping an eye on them apparently had found her, returning her to their camp silently. 

Fifteen year old Deek had died in a stupid hunting accident. He left the group, somehow got turned around, went for a kill with his knife, that the others were already stalking... The impulsive boy ended up with a spear in his chest. He bled out before they got him back to camp. Monty had quietly confided that even had Clarke herself been there the moment it happened, he wasn't sure she could have saved him. 

There was Jill, residing in the med bay under Monty and Jasper's iffy care, recuperating from a nasty bout of food poisoning. It'd been two days and she'd looked awfully weak to his non-medical eye. 

Then there was Collete holed up in a tent with Raven. Hadn't come out in days, but Raven was bringing her food and water, and hopefully keeping her sane. Killing Dickson hadn't taken away the girl's pain, but at least she didn't have to fear him. Bellamy had offered her a gun, with some of the guards holding the bastard down, to do it herself, but she'd refused. That had been one of the few times she'd emerged from Raven's tent since the attack though- to watch the execution. Bellamy dragged the body outside with Atom, and puked into the woods away from the graveyard. At least Atom was smart enough to comment on that weakness. He, and Sterling, and Conner, and every other of the other watchers stood behind Bellamy when he came back into camp to make an announcement by the fire too. Collete and Raven had already disappeared back into their refuge, but nearly everyone else was still around. 

“Princess and I announced that law one of camp is if you don't work, you don't eat. Well now you all know what law two is. Rape is a capital crime. Whether or not you accomplish it entirely.” snarled the elder leader harshly. 

Clarke was going to want to murder him for that, Bellamy was sure. Allowing a girl to be attacked- within their wall even! Thank earth the girl had a knife, since Clarke had asked that more be made while she was gone, she'd gutted him badly enough the execution might have been a mercy killing anyway since Clarke wasn't here to put him back together, and there was no way Bellamy was asking the grounders to heal an attempted rapist. 

Not to mention Justin who'd they carried to the grounder village who'd promised Clarke to heal them while she was gone, and left there just yesterday because he'd somehow fallen out of a tree for some forsaken reason that no one could explain well enough to Bellamy. There had been too many broken bones, and too bad of bruising, for Monty to deal with. His girlfriend had stayed with him there, and Bellamy couldn't help kicking himself for not staying as well, but the delinquents were dropping left and right, and he just couldn't... 

Three... unwell. Six dead. 

How was he supposed to face Clarke? 

Day 28 

Their last two days in Polis had passed before Clarke could even really thinking about how fast it was going by. She joined the healers with Charlotte both morning, and watched the young nightbloods go through their training in the afternoons. The first evening, she'd spent cloistered with Lexa and Octavia, in their endless planning and debate until well past midnight. She'd put her foot down- Charlotte, though she remembered, would not be brought into the Praimfaya plans. Lexa had offered for Charlotte to remain, but Clarke couldn't stand it. There would be plenty of time for the young girl to study with the novitiates in their time within the bunker. The very last night, though, Octavia declared it a night off, and the half-dozen of their crew went out into Polis exploring. Or rather, Clarke and Octavia subtly showing their clansmen around. It'd been a fitting end to their week, even with several guards trailing them at Lexa's demand. 

Now it was time to return home however. The idea of what the hundred could have been getting up to was steadily growing more alarming. Bellamy could surely keep them reined in alone, but they were a reckless, impulsive lot by nature... 

They gathered together an hour before dawn for a meal at Lexa's insistence- the commander, Costia, Titus, a few of her guards, the skaikru delegation, their trikru escorts, and the novitiates. 

It was a form of punishment from the commander, Clarke was certain. There had never been something so painfully awkward as this, not even when Gustus poisoned himself trying to break the alliance. There was little talking except for Octavia, Costia, and Aden, whom together seemed cheerful enough for the entire table. 

Clarke noticed with narrowed eyes how closely the thirteen year old nightblood, Lexa's favorite, sat to Charlotte, and the starry eyed looks he threw at the little blonde apprentice. 

Of course, Clarke was fond of Aden, and hoped fervently that in this life, he would be safe... but Charlotte was her responsibility, and nightbloods had a slim chance at survival due the rules of conclave. It looked like Charlotte was too sleepy at such an early wake-up to even really notice the young nightblood's attention though. 

“Clarke, your apprentice has shown promise. I am surprised to hear that she is only a month into her learning.” stated Costia gently.

“Barely a month, actually. Today is our twenty-eighth day on Earth, and I took Charlotte as my apprentice the evening of our landing.” replied Clarke with a twitch of her lips in a vague smile. 

“I hope you both will return to Polis soon.” murmured Costia with a much more serene smile flashed especially to Charlotte. 

“I hope so too!” added Aden hopefully.

Clarke gave the young nightblood an assessing look, but then smiled faintly.

“We must deal with Arkadia upon their arrival, which will likely be tomorrow, but we will come back when we can.” confirmed the princess quietly. 

As they lingered, saying farewells, Clarke blinked as she watched Aden shyly present Charlotte with the sword she'd been practicing with all week, in a sheath with a sky blue cord. 

Charlotte finally looked like she'd woken up, and stuttered out a bashful thanks, blushing heavily. Aden clasped her arm, as he'd taught her, and she returned the gesture awkwardly, clearly startled by the present. With fumbling hands, she tied the sheath around her waist, looking up at Aden to be sure she'd done it correctly. 

The young nightblood beamed at her. 

“Charlotte kom Skaikru, may we meet again.” stated Aden kindly, as Charlotte had taught him in turn. 

“Aden kom Delfikru, may we meet again.” whispered Charlotte suddenly shy with the boy she'd spent half her time in Polis with. 

Lexa noticed as well, Clarke realized, the commander watching her favorite with a fond look. The heda smirked somewhat smugly at Clarke when their eyes met. The Skaikru girl glared back just in case any thoughts of arranged marriages were still swirling in the commander's endlessly scheming mind. 

Octavia lunged for Clarke as they began walking out, hugging her tightly, then springing back with a smirk on her face. The blonde felt the thin paper that had been slipped into her pocket. 

“Give it to him, when you can, ok?” muttered Octavia very quietly.

“Be careful, all of you.” demanded the blonde anxiously, with a nod to her newly dubbed ambassador, and eyeing the trio of her people she was unhappily leaving behind.

Having watched until the riding party was out of sight, the young ambassador and her companions retreating to their quarters to prepare for their first day on their own, Titus followed Lexa to her own.

Arriving back at the Hundred Camp 

The trip back home from Polis was just as exhausting at the trip there had been. Clarke couldn't even remember if she'd ever been as sore as making this ride in a single day left her. Murphy and Charlotte looked ready to drop from the horses straight into their bedrolls. They'd learn to eat and drink in the saddle though, and that had quickened the trip a little at least. But it was really just too hard of a ride to make in one day. But it was such a waste, and rather terrifying to sleep out in the open. 

Bellamy could hear the watchers calling out, and came hustling out of his tent in time to see the gate swing open. 

Clarke had already dismounted, as had the grounder leader who'd taken her away a week ago, and seemed to saying farewell. The mismatched pair smoothly clasped arms and nodded, with a small smile upon Clarke's face, while the grounder looked just as unpleasant as always, his eyes locked upon the small blonde medic harshly. 

Caliban leaned down slightly towards the sky princess with a hard smirk. 

“Skai prisa, if you come to my village, I will continue the training your men began in Polis, and your apprentice could learn from our healer.” he offered gruffly. 

Clarke smiled briefly, and nodded consent. “I would like to visit with your healer as well. I did not have much time in Polis, but enough to see there is plenty for me to learn about Earth healing. The people of Arkadia are expected soon, and I must bring Heda's offer to them, but I would like to visit your village after that.” 

“One week, I will return. Bring as many of your men to train as you wish. I will see to them myself.” rumbled the older Trikru warrior firmly. 

“May we meet again.” murmured Clarke. 

Caliban nodded curtly before stepping away. 

As their groups separated, that Bellamy's heart stopped. 

Everyone had now dismounted, he grounder kids were leading away the extra horses, while Charlotte and Murphy were both left holding the two the commander had gifted to them. 

But his sister was nowhere to be seen. 

Wells and Miller weren't in sight either, in fact. 

Clarke watched the grounders ride off, wondering about Caliban's offer, before she turned to look into the camp, where Bellamy was swiftly crossing to her. 

“Octavia?” he demanded before he even reached her. 

Clarke held up a hand immediately, shaking her head quickly. 

“She's fine.” assured the blonde firmly before he could get going. 

“She decided to stay in Polis for now. I left Wells and Miller with her. They're training under Lexa's guards, and Octavia is acting as our ambassador for the coalition.” 

And training with a Trikru warrior herself... she didn't add because she already knew what Bellamy was going to think of that. 

“You just left her there?” bellowed the dark haired former guard furiously. 

Clarke looked at him flatly, and didn't notice Murphy hastily handing over the reins he held to Charlotte to order to come stand with Clarke. When his right shoulder pressed into her left, and she breathed in that long, deep breathe of literally feeling somehow backing her up. John Murphy was a dangerous guy. Vicious in a fight, unpredictable if crossed, and unflinching in cruelty. Somehow, on Earth, knowing everything she had to fight, Clarke felt safer with him on her side. It made her realize just how different life, and she, was this time around that she felt safer with Murphy behind her. 

Bellamy kept snarling at her, though, and she snapped back harshly before shoving down that fury. 

“Did you want me to have the guys knock her unconscious and tie her to a horse to drag her back? Because that's what it would have taken. That's never going to be an option in my opinion.” retorted the blonde sharply, even as she tried to rein in her annoyance. 

Bellamy growled, but looked away, ignoring her comment. 

“Anyway, how did things go here?” she asked.

Bellamy grimaced. 

“Six dead. Three others unwell. One bad enough that we left him with the grounders.” he announced coldly.

“Six dead.” she repeated blankly. 

He nodded curtly. The younger leader's face was ominously composed, and she turned away from him to call out some instructions. 

“Monroe, can you take care of the horses? Charlotte, get some sleep. John, I need to deal with this.” 

Monroe hastened from the crowd, smiling at the horses to take their reins, out of the hundred, she'd been the most interested in them, besides Charlotte. Clarke's little apprentice just stood there, swaying a bit when Monroe brushed gently past her, blankly staring at Clarke. Murphy looked between them, and scoffed. He laid an arm around the kid's shoulders to steer her towards the tent closest to the dropship on the girl's side. Clarke smiled at him, getting a nod before he urged the absolutely exhausted kid on. 

Clarke turned back to Bellamy only once Monroe had lead off the horses towards the little area they'd made for them, and Murphy had ducked into her tent with Charlotte. 

“Anyone critical? What's going on with them?” asked Clarke coolly, switching effortlessly into her healer mode despite the dragging weariness. 

Bellamy nodded towards the dropship, and so Clarke followed him. As they went up the ramp though, Murphy was already ducking out of her tent. 

“Got her boots off at least, she's already asleep.” he reported, eyeing the pair of leaders. 

Clarke nodded. “Thanks. These rides are really too much... You coming?” she asked, titling her heads towards the dropship. 

Murphy's shoulders relaxed a bit, but he shook his head. “No, gonna grab some sleep too.” 

Clarke nodded, and the prickly boy turned to head for his tent. The blonde looked back to Bellamy now. 

“You and Murphy?” hinted Bellamy.

Clarke turned away, huffing. 

“Yes.” she replied shortly.

“Why?” asked Bellamy bluntly now. 

“Look, I've already done this with Octavia, Wells, and Lexa. John is protective, loyal, and willing to do what needs to be done. We're... together. I don't know. This isn't the Ark! It's not like we are oh so carefully considering whether or not we should wed and have the standard issue offspring, OK? We're just together, and I have no idea why people are so interested in whom I'm sleeping with!” vented the little blonde leader with irritation simmering to the surface instantly. 

Bellamy smirked at her, amused at her temper, which she glared even worse. 

“You're the one who insisted on the sex talks, Princess.” reminded her partner jeeringly. 

Her eyes narrowed angrily. “Monty and Jasper's project is working out quite well, as I'm sure you've already discovered for yourself.” she snapped. “Now can we get back to what's actually important?” 

The pair continued past through the dropship, where Clarke instantly noted somehow sleeping on a bedroll near the med bay, and into the upper level. Bellamy quietly lowered the hatch, and began to pace restlessly. 

“That was Jill downstairs. Bad food poisoning. She must have gotten an under cooked piece of meat, according to Monty. Was in really bad shape for a day or so, and seems to be taking a while to get over it.” he revealed first. 

Clarke nodded impatiently. Her partner in leading this little camp of delinquents looked like he was choking on his words, and as he forced them out, Clarke didn't realize she was sinking to the floor to sit horrified, listening to his report. Apparently things had been going a little too well, and Earth had evened the score a little. 

“Does the Ark know?” asked Clarke finally into the dreadful silence that had fallen once Bellamy had confessed the lasts of his sins and failings during her time away. 

“No. Haven't talked to them since the after you left. Raven told them she was going to take apart the comms or something.” replied her partner gruffly. 

She nodded, a faraway look upon her face. 

“It was all going too well.” she muttered ruefully, and somehow Bellamy's heart could still sink lower it seemed. 

“I'm sorry.” whispered the rebel leader so bitterly she finally looked back up at him. Her blue eyes were dark and glinting, but there was no sign of tears on her face. 

“It's not your fault, Bell. Shitty luck, an awful planet, unprepared kids... it's a miracle we haven't lost more.” 

 

Day 31 

The Ark had come down two days ago. Everything was packed carefully into the dropship. Everyone had a pack to carry, and a weapon. Justin and Lisa Ann were remaining in Anya's village, where Jill had joined them, too weak for the walk still. Collete insisted on going along though. Of course, Octavia, Miller, and Wells remained in Polis. So there was eighty-seven of them lined up not long after dawn waiting for the signal to go, and then there was Lincoln, who'd stoically volunteered to go with them. Clarke and Charlotte were at the front, each on a horse, close together. Murphy and Bellamy walked to Clarke's side, and Lincoln walked at Charlotte's. 

They were estimating it was a seven or eight hour walk, but with the number of breaks that would likely be required, Bellamy would consider himself happy if they made it to Arkadia before dark. 

Everyone was given a large weapon, plus a knife hidden on them somehow. Clarke suspects many of them have more than one. Clarke has a sword, gifted from Trikru, on her hip, and a rifle slung across her, and a knife bound to one calf. Charlotte has her sword from Aden. Bellamy, Murphy, Raven, and the watchers have the rest of the rifles. The hunters have the bows and the few other swords. The bulk of the hundred are carrying the rough spears though. Otherwise they're carrying only food, water, and enough material to put up the minimum of shelter.

“Move out!” yells Bellamy, and Clarke nudges her horse forwards, Charlotte's following effortlessly only a beat behind. 

The rumble of feet sounds like duty, and love, and clan to Clarke. The kids' curiosity and excitement quickly faded into a dull sort of determination as they covered the land at a harsh pace. They'd keep going if it killed them, but they no longer were sure why they were doing it anyway. 

Sometimes Charlotte and Clarke walk, with the princess taking the opportunity to get at least a dozen of the delinquents to take turns on the horses- slowly getting accustomed to the feel. Monroe and Harper both have fallen in love with the horses. Somewhere around what they think might be the half-way point, they all stop for an hour's rest, and eating the rations they brought along. 

It's now a slow trudge across land despite Bellamy's efforts to keep a good pace. Their shoulders throbbing from their burdens, and legs aching from the unrelenting walk, only the collective fear of being left behind is urging them on still. Lincoln frequently rushes ahead, scouting the area, and when he returns to grimly announced that he's seen the camp- just another ten minutes ahead, they pause for another break, to get their bearings. 

“We're setting up tents BEFORE anyone goes inside Arkadia, don't forget!” yelled Bellamy. 

“We should always have at least some of our people remain outside of their gate! Anyone who wants to stay is free to do so, but do not bring anyone back with us without vetting them with us FIRST!” reminded Clarke sharply.

“Plan is to return home three days from now!” continued Bellamy. 

Murphy pulls the current riders down, urging Clarke to ride the final stretch to make an entrance, and somehow that leads to Clarke insisting on Charlotte riding behind her, and Bellamy is nagged onto the second horse, looking grimly miserable, but sitting well enough to make the few minutes ride. Now Lincoln walks between the horses, and Murphy still at Clarke's side, and the other eighty-six kids have actually found a little bit of curiosity left in them to hasten their steps. The sun is going to set soon, and they have just enough time to make an appearance before dusk. 

The ark camp comes into sight, and Charlotte ducks her head anxiously against Clarke's shoulder, holding tightly to the other girl. The guards, already set up near the half-finished gate, began yelling. 

Clarke pulled her horse to a stop well before the gate, and Bellamy automatically followed. Looking over his shoulder, Bellamy barked out an order for everyone to stay behind them, and to start setting up a temporary camp. 

Arkadia is growing into a rapid frenzy, with the guards blocking people from spilling out, and everyone yelling for the chancellor. 

“Everything about this screams recipe for disaster.” muttered John bitterly. 

Finally, with the hundred having already set their burdens down and began spreading out, well behind the horses, the rough gate is thrown open, with the guards still holding back the masses with shock batons, for the first Arkadians allowed out to greet them. 

It was of no surprise that her mother, and Kane, along with Sinclair and David Miller were the first to rush out. That Theolonius Jaha was with them- looking stiffly proper as ever on the Ark- nearly knocked the breath out of her. 

Bellamy heard her gasp, and looked over frantically, she cut her eyes at her pointedly. 

“Jaha's with them.” she muttered tightly, and it was enough for him to realize that meant Jaha had NOT been previously... 

“More than a week without a word! We thought you'd died!” called out Abby Griffin censoriously. 

“There are eighty-seven of us who've made the journey along with our Trikru ally who thankfully guided us. Six of us did not come, and nine of us are dead.” announced Clarke loudly, above the din of all the greetings. 

Silence fell, the delinquents knowing to be silent when Clarke spoke, and the Arkadians surprised into it. 

“Wells Jaha, Octavia Blake, Nathan Miller, and Lisa Ann Beley are all well, but did not come. Jill Yaworski, and Justin Bishop were not in shape for the journey, but are in stable condition.” continued Clarke firmly, but then faltered just long enough that Bellamy cut in. 

“Trina, Pascal, Finn Collins, Dax, John Mbege, Glen Dickson, Steve Woodley, Angela, and Deek are all dead. Buried back at our camp.” added Bellamy Blake gruffly.

“We are just grateful that so many of you have survived.” announced Marcus Kane smoothly. 

“Guards! Allow out the parents of the Hundred only!” barked Kane, looking over at the gate. 

Much less than half of the delinquents had parents inside Arkadia. Clarke quietly passed word around to the rest that remaining outside the half-finished Arkadia walls would be a good idea. 

David Miller and Theolonius Jaha both came to her asking about their sons- shaken and alarmed to hear where the pair was, and what they were doing.

Clarke's mother hustles her inside, and the girl wouldn't admit it, but she's glad some of her people follow despite the warning about the walls. 

But in the center of Arkadia's ground, Clarke tugs her arm free of her mother, stepping back until she's put herself firmly between Bellamy and Murphy, her mother left staring at her uncertainly. 

“I have news for Arkadia!” she yelled into the crowd, and they slowly gathered up, curious, having already been eyeing the new arrivals eagerly. 

“Clarke, we should talk privately-” urged Abby quietly, reaching forward again, but Murphy drew up his gun in the way of her arm. The doctor drew back that she'd been burned, and her eyes glared fiercely declaring that there would be retribution for that impulsive action. 

Clarke ignored the exchange. John was too quick to resort to even non-verbal threats, but her mother wasn't someone she could reason with in any decent amount of time. 

“Bellamy Blake and I are the leaders of the Hundred!” she announced loudly to get this started, and then rolled up her sleeve in order to raise her arm into the air.

The coalition brand caught everyone's attention, there was no reason to yell now because the camp went silent to listen. 

“There were twelve united clans of people forming a coalition in this land when we came down, and the Hundred has become the thirteenth clan. The leader of this coalition is called the Heda, and her name is Lexa kom Trikru. Trikru is upon whose land the Hundred landed, and they are our greatest ally. We've made a home for ourselves. We are on earth now. We are grounders now. This is the brand of the coalition.” she announced, waving her arm slightly before lowering it to clasp her hands behind her back. 

“Now we have come to welcome you to Earth, but we are not here to rejoin with you. The Hundred has become Skaikru, and we bring you Heda's offer. She invites Arkadia to send a delegation to attend a summit to discuss joining the coalition as a fourteenth clan. An Arkadian ambassador will need to stay in her city if you do. Skairkru's ambassador is Octavia Blake, and with her are Nathan Miller and Wells Jaha.” explained Clarke firmly, voice raised to carry over the crowd. 

Once her announcement was done, Clarke slipped as discretely through the crowd as she could until she came to Marcus Kane. Laying one hand upon his arm, she offered a folded piece of paper silently. When she didn't answer his curious query, he accepted the note with a frown, and opened it hesitantly. 

In another life, she'd seen that look of horrified devastation settle onto Kane's face too many times. It had mainly been caused by the terrors leading up to Praimfaya, though, rather than a torn, half-sheet of paper. Clarke, having read it herself on a break during the exhausting trip home from Polis, knew he was justified in that guilty, ashen gaze. 

Perhaps it was one thing to have sent a long-separated former lover to death, and another thing entirely if it was the mother of your child. Personally, she wasn't so sure it wasn't thoughts of the scandal running through his head right now instead however. 

“You know?” asked Kane hoarsely, fluttering the note vaguely, looking up at Clarke weakly.

“Yes, Octavia is my friend.” replied the young leader calmly, meeting his gaze without reaction. 

“I didn't.” murmured Kane, with an almost pleading note to his low voice.

Clarke nodded agreement, eyes not leaving his. 

“She is Skaikru's ambassador to the coalition, and her brother is my partner in leading. We urge you to consider the heda's offer.” stated the girl firmly. 

Turning, Clarke moved swiftly back towards the few members of her people who'd come into the fence. Kane let her go without a word, but he watched Abby and Jake's little girl walk away. He'd watched her fall apart at her father's death, and been surprised at the cold stoicism of her behavior when she too was arrested. And he'd watched her limp body being loaded onto the dropship, for the girl had not allowed herself to be taken without a fight. The Hundred needed her medical training, though, just as they needed Wells' to lead them, and so, despite her unwillingness to receive a second chance- she'd been forced into one anyway. Jaha's boy would be able to deal with her, they'd thought. 

Before the drop, Kane had silently wondered what would happen if Wells failed to hold control over the mass of delinquents until the Ark came. Would the pretty girl from Phoenix, the innocent traitor, survive the violent horde she'd been sent with? Would the delinquents have the common sense and reasoning skills to see her value as a medic? Or would she simply be a causality of the lawlessness these teenagers were ruled by? This outcome... had never been one of their projections. They'd thrown her to the wolves, and somehow the little princess was leading the pack. When the time came for the arrest orders, Marcus had believed the girl to be purely Jake's child- soft, idealistic, and rash. He'd scrawled her name under her father's himself. But now he wondered if she was not more her mother's child. One Abigail Griffin was quite enough to deal with. 

As he considered the dilemma that was Clarke Griffin, Marcus was shoving down all thoughts of another teenage girl that he could not even pray to fathom. 

His daughter. 

Before darkness fell, the Hundred raised a fire to gather around between their straggly camp, where they'd be sleeping huddled tightly together, and Arkadia. 

As the evening wore on, the hundred had settled down into their even more meager than normal accommodations, and quickly fallen asleep thanks to the day's journey. The few kids who had parents inside Arkadia had been slipped blankets, except for Clarke, who'd had a row over sleeping beyond the fence instead of a lovingly folded blanket. 

Bellamy, Clarke, Murphy, and Raven were the last left around the fire quietly watching Arkadia settle down for the night from the distance. They all needed sleep too much to be able to set watchers on duty, but they could at least stay up until Arkadia was silent. 

“They don't want us to leave.” murmured Clarke grimly, just loud enough for the other three to hear. 

“Good thing it's not up to them.” quipped Raven quickly. 

Clarke glared into the fire, Murphy pressed closely into her side. 

“We may have to fight our way out.” muttered the young leader grimly. 

“Or leave tonight while they're sleeping.” urged Bellamy. 

“They've got guards on watch. We couldn't move fast enough to slip away.” countered the blonde bitterly. 

Day 32

It was so eerily familiar that Clarke half-expected it to be Indra at her back, but instead it was Bellamy and Murphy, with Atom and Monroe, and another dozen or so hunters and watchers- everyone who'd come into Arkadia on her heels. Who'd given Charlotte a gun anyway? It looked longer than she was, but the kid held it with a tight anxiety. At least the girl was tucked firmly behind Monroe. Joining Arkadia for breakfast was turning out to have been an idiotic mistake, but she'd berate herself for it later. Once they got back out of here. 

“Call the rest of the kids inside.” ordered her mother, glaring angrily. 

“We're not staying here. This is not our home, and you are not our people anymore.” retorted the younger leader harshly. 

Her mother and Kane weren't ready to back down now though, this was happening so much earlier... 

“Call them in. Now. Or the guards will bring them in, and someone might get hurt.” hissed Abigail Griffin. 

The words flowed out of Clarke's mouth like she had no control over them. 

“You may be the chancellor, but I'm in charge- of the Hundred.” 

Her mother's face flushed a furious pink, Kane and Jaha, surrounded by what looked like the entire guard force, just looked utterly astonished. 

“Relinquish your weapons.” ordered Abby coldly. 

Clarke prayed to any gods who might be listening that her people knew better than to obey. There was no way to discretely sneak nearly ninety people out of here, if they surrounded, they'd be stuck for who knows how long. 

“Over my dead body.” stated Clarke just as coldly as she stood her ground, eyeing her mother like a particularly nasty puzzle she ought to solve. 

Bellamy Blake valued his life a little too much to point out how very similar the Griffin women were- coldly composed, fiercely determined, and ruthlessly motivated. He'd never imagine they'd be similar, but watching them face off, with their own factions at their backs... 

Abigail Griffin was trying to punish her daughter for being exactly like her. 

The irony of it wasn't going to save them though. 

“Guards, detain them. Strip them of the weapons.” commanded the newest chancellor loudly. 

Chaos descended on her cue. 

Too many guards against only the couple dozen delinquents, if only Octavia were here...

Limbs and bodies pressing together, and flailing, orders were being screamed from all sides, and more delinquents seemed to be pouring into the writhing mass- they must have gotten past the guard left at the gate. There was a shock baton against her ribs, and she swung at it's handler, but the next landing was the butt of it against her skull. The ground was hard, but the boot that swung into her ribs was worse. Somewhere much too close Charlotte was shrieking bloody murder. The world spun, and suddenly shots were ringing out, the screaming growing into a massive roar. 

Belly and face pressed into the ground, Murphy yelling somewhere above her, but at what she couldn't make herself remember right now. Clarke couldn't stop her mind from dazedly thinking about him. Her head was throbbing rather violently, after all. She couldn't be held responsible for the whimsical nature her thoughts strayed about now... 

Her ears were ringing, and the roars of fury and shock hammered at her skull. The only thing she could think of was him though. If he cared, he was immovable, yet when he didn't, he was pure vapor. In his arms alone, Clarke knew there was a single person on Earth who was hers. There was only Murphy. The one person she knew had no higher devotion than her. There was no deal too tempting, no person he placed above her, and certainly no morality that would keep him from her. As long as she didn't hurt him away, he'd stay at her side and nothing could wrench him away. Position and power might have a lot to do with him aligning with her, but... that was something she could understand too. Survival of the fittest. 

Clarke was pretty sure, in a part of herself that she usually kept buried, that nothing short of the end of the world could kill her. Self-preservation was an art form to John. At least when his temper didn't get the best of him. Whatever won the fealty, she'd accept it anyway. 

Suddenly he was hauling her up from the ground abruptly. Clarke swayed on her feet with her thoughts still trailing with what should be an alarming lack of clarity. The world spun as he pulled her forwards with her arm thrown over his shoulders. 

“Thanks.” she whispered faintly.

“Just another day on the ground, right?” he replied quietly enough for only her to hear. 

Blood trickled down her face, and there was just enough reason left for her to realize her head really had been hit too hard... She felt someone on her other side, was that Harper, just before the world went black and cold.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Day 33 

When she woke up again, a dark hood is half over her face, and the world is swaying. So of course she promptly leans over to vomit until she was hoping to pass out again. There was a sudden flurry of voices, an awkward halt to the sickening sway, and bustling movement all around her, but she couldn't focus on any of it well. 

“Why am I on a horse?” she asked blearily with her eyes still tightly shut against, and collapsed against whomever had the misfortune to be behind her. 

“We are bringing you home.” rumbled a low voice behind her that Clarke eventually realized was Lincoln. 

A hand landed on her thigh, and she strained to focus on the next words- “Your mother sedated you when you tried to leave the med bay. So we packed up and left.” informed John, the sheer fury lacing his words rousing Clarke better than anything else.

“Thank you.” she muttered to Lincoln, and Murphy, and whoever else was around. 

“We're been on the move for about 5hrs. Might as well take a break now.” suggested John gruffly. 

“Okay.” agreed the young leader groggily, but soon regretted it because the world spun again as she felt Lincoln handing her down to Murphy.

He helped her sit down, and then sat beside her, just far enough away from the horse's hooves. Clarke moaned and curled up with her head in his lap as it pounded miserably. 

“They thought your lil shadow was still sleeping, but kid didn't miss a trick. Woke me up soon as they left, and kept watch till I could come back for you. Blake's been covering the retreat. Prolly be here in a bit.” offered John quietly enough she knew it was meant for her ears alone. 

If Clarke hadn't felt so awful, she would certainly have noticed the tinge of pride when Murphy talked about Charlotte. A large hand fell gently upon her shoulder, and she slightly opened her eyes- just enough to realize it was Lincoln crouching before her- offering up a water-skin. He held it carefully as she drank, and when she relaxed back into John's surprisingly gentle hold, Lincoln watched her for a moment.

“Your people moved swiftly under duress.” offered the Trikru warrior, then standing back up and disappearing away. 

“Just a couple more hours.” muttered John. Clarke nodded against him. 

“Did everyone come?” she asked without opening her eyes again yet. 

“Think so. Picked up a couple cling-ons too.” was the curt reply.

“Who?” 

“Some friend of Miller's who insisted on coming, and Reyes' is bringing her new boyfriend I guess.” explained John somewhat gruffly. 

“Clarke!” called a much too loud voice, much too close, over the din of what sounded more like hundreds of kids instead of not even one hundred all taking spots to rest all around. 

“Dude, she's got a headache.” barked Murphy resentfully. 

Clarke finally opened her eyes, feeling spiteful of the sun, and her mother, to see Bellamy hurrying to crouch down beside her quite like Lincoln. 

“You okay?” asked her partner gruffly. 

“Fine. Just hungover.” grumbled Clarke. 

“Your mother said you had a mild concussion last night.” he said bitingly. 

Clarke closed her eyes again as that thought sent a spike of pain, and frustration, through her. 

“I'm glad to be out of there.” she admitted, instead of actually thanking him for it. 

“They haven't followed us, but I've kept all the gunners in the back in case they got any ideas. It was a pretty ugly exit.” ventured Bellamy. 

“I bet. Nice to have slept through it, I guess.” she joked halfheartedly. 

Bellamy snorted. “Yea, princess, bet it was.” 

He stood up again. “You should eat though. We'll let everyone rest a half-hour and then back to moving if we want to get close before dark.”

“Fine.” muttered Clarke wearily.

“Bring her something so she doesn't have to get up.” suggested Murphy tightly. 

“I've got berries and jerky.” announced Charlotte shyly from somewhere close by. 

“Thanks, sweetie.” murmured Clarke, blindly reaching a hand out, and soon feeling Charlotte's hand brush hers as she offered a pouch. 

Still keeping her eyes closed, Clarke slowly munched on the first thing she reached in the bag, and felt Charlotte settle down beside her and Murphy gently. The memory of waking up in Arkadia's, or Camp Jaha as they called it, med bay was hazily coming to the surface, but she wasn't sure she wanted to remember it. There had definitely been an explosive argument with her mother, and then a burst of pure fury when a needle pierced her skin unexpectedly. Now she heard Bellamy's voice again, but he'd moved on, and was yelling at the hundred to hurry up with their snacks and “bathroom breaks” because they were moving on in a half-hour. 

“That actually went worse than I expected.” muttered Clarke ironically. 

“Yea, well, they're good at that.” grumbled John darkly, but his arms tightened around her for a moment before easing up again. 

“Was anyone else hurt?” asked the medic wearily, wondering if she shouldn't really force herself up to check on her people...

“Everyone's fine. You got the worst of it.” grumbled Murphy. If she'd felt better, Clarke would have noticed how he did not actually confirm no one else was injured. As it was, she simply felt a wave of relief- at least partially because she wasn't sure she could stand without vomiting again yet. 

Righteous indignation and youthful stubbornness can only fuel you so far. The last two hours of their trip take nearly four, and it's past dark when they return to camp stewing over Arkadia's treatment of them, exhausted from the relentless travel. By the time Skaikru, with their two new additions, limped till they were close enough to see their own gate, they were a sunburned, groaning lot. Left to their own devices, the kids would have simply dropped to the ground, used their packs as pillows, and slept where ever they fell. Likely they would have slept till sunrise easily despite the lack of comfort. Not that either Bellamy or Clarke was going to allow such immediate gratification. 

No, with Charlotte and Fox riding one of the mares together, and Clarke and Lincoln on the other coming to a stop on the opposite side of the gate from the graveyard, Bellamy stood in front of the gate to address them. Murphy wasn't paying attention as he and Lincoln helped Clarke down from her horse. 

“Fox, tend to the horses. Water crews, set your packs down and get going, all of you. Everyone's dehydrated. Light some torches. Atom, Sterling, Jones, Connor, take guns and go with them. Someone pull out something for dinner from the preserves. Monroe, get the fire going. Everyone else get the tents put back up just like they were.” barked the elder of the leaders demanding, eyeing the group harshly as they collectively moaned and shuffled at being denied sleep. 

“Monty, Jasper, see if you can't figure out something for the sunburns, and if camp actually gets everything done in an hour, bring out some moonshine.” added Clarke wearily with her eyes not on the crowd, but watching as Lincoln helped Charlotte and Fox off their mare. 

When he'd set the girls carefully on their feet, Clarke laid a hand on his arm to snag his attention. He turned to her with those so calm eyes, and focused stoic stare. All around them, the delinquents were trudging this way and that, setting down their makeshift packs and shuffling around to their chores pitifully. But with Lincoln's intent focus turned to her, it was easy to block out the noisy rumble. 

“Thank you, Lincoln. You're welcome to stay the night, rather than walk back to your village.” she offered fondly, despite her throbbing head and ribs, and the all over sore, exhaustion. 

He shook his head slightly. “I will return to my people.” he stated quietly. Clarke squeezed his arm lightly as she offered one of her half-smiles. 

“May we meet again.” murmured the blonde skaikru leader, and Lincoln simply nodded once before stepping slowly around her, heading away from the Skaikru camp with measured, long steps. He did not look back, but then, she'd never known him to be one for such hesitation anyway. 

Bellamy finds her, weary and irritated in the drop ship that night, re-wrapping her ribs, Murphy's out helping with the settling of camp. 

“I heard a guard was stabbed.” she remarked quietly as Bellamy drew close. 

“Yea. The guard who hit you. He died before they got him to the med bay.” began Bellamy. The name he offered her was unfamiliar at least. 

“Do they know who did it?” she asked, and having finished with her ribs, pulled her shirt painfully back on. 

“No. At least they didn't seem to.” 

“Do we know?” This question was even quieter. 

“Oh, yea. Your little boyfriend.” 

Clarke turned to face Bellamy, her eyes hard and darkened. 

“No one needs to know that. We all would do awful things to protect our own.” she warned softly. 

Bellamy scoffed, which she was fairly certain was meant as some sort of disdain over his motives versus John's, but she felt too badly to pick at it. 

Outside, she finds Murphy easily, he's barking at some kids who've somehow knocked over their tent. With a last sneer at them, he lets her pull him into his own tent. 

“Bellamy told you killed the guard-” she began in a low whisper.

“He was going at you!” began Murphy hotly, but she laid a finger heavily upon his lips.

“Thank you.” she finished gently, and he slowly softened under her touch. Once he no longer stood before her bowed up in righteous anger, she let her hand fall, and he smirked at her. 

“Anytime, Princess.” he muttered dryly, though he looking away defensively still. 

Clarke was willing to bet her life on understanding John Murphy. So long as she gave him no cause to feel betrayed, she had nothing to fear from him. When he leaned in, warily slow as ever, she stepped closer, and reveled in the proof that there was someone on Earth at least that was irrevocably on her side. 

His lips on hers felt a little like a selling another piece of her soul. Fleeting though it was, the warm peace was almost worth it. 

Day 34 Before Dawn

With all the camp sleeping hard, except the five on-duty watchers, worn out beyond measure from their days of walking. The youngest member of the camp woke up, well before dawn, confused and scared, though she could feel the warmth beside her that showed Clarke had slipped into the tent sometime after Charlotte had fallen asleep the night before. As if she'd heard something lurking outside of their tent, or perhaps a nightmare she couldn't recall, anxiety made her skin feel as if something was creeping along her. Shaken, but still so exhausted, she pressed closer to her protector, mind racing with apprehension she couldn't even understand, until sleep claimed her again.

Clarke woke, not knowing what time it was the sun had not yet begun to light the camp, shaking from the cold despite the younger girl tightly curled up beside her, and the furs they both lay under.

Pressing closer to Charlotte, she brushed her hand across the child's forehead, poking out from the furs, the world seemed to still and the universe shrunk to the tight confines of their tent.

Clarke, losing every bit of the composure she'd hard won over painful months, screamed one long, terrified howl. 

Charlotte was cold. 

Time, having frozen in the moment that Clarke had woken up chilled and groggy, suddenly sped up.

People were flooding into her tent, and crowding around the entrance when there was no more room to get in. First Sterling, having been on watch, came bursting into the tent so roughly it was a surprise that he didn't bring it down on top of them. From the tent just next door, Monroe, Harper and Fox come tripping over each other. Bellamy and Murphy yelling, and running to the tent's flaps. 

The muffled sounds of dozens of panicked feet stumbling from their tents, grabbing weapons and rushing for the wall didn't even draw Clarke's attention. Because her scream had roused the little girl into blearily trying to open her eye. She succeeded for only a moment before giving up. 

“Clarke.” whimpered the young girl instead though. 

“Oh, Charlotte!” 

“What's wrong?” demanded Sterling frantically. 

“Her body temp is too low!” blurted out Clarke, scrambling to her feet, and realizing that she was shaking too. 

Bellamy swooped down and pulled Charlotte into his arms easily. 

“God, she's freezing. Drop ship?” he asked urgently. 

“Yes. We need more furs, and someone needs to warm some by the fire!” ordered Clarke, laying their best blanket, Finn's, across her before Bellamy rushed out.

Clarke followed awkwardly, shaking, and yelled for Monty. 

Sterling grabbed their other blankets, hauling them out to the fire, grim faced. 

Monty came rushing, having been gathered with the others just outside the girls tents.

“What's wrong?” he urged anxiously as they rushed up into the drop ship. 

Bellamy had laid Charlotte on the makeshift exam table, and laid the blanket Finn had left over her as she whimpered, shifting on the hard table painfully. He stood there, holding the girl's hand, and looking at her with wide, panicked eyes. 

“Her body temp dropped sometime tonight. I woke up because she was so cold against me.” explained Clarke swiftly. 

The three of them crowded around the girl, with the rest hanging back, and Jasper came hustling in too. Monty was carefully checking her temperature from head to toe, while Clarke had pressed her ear against the girl's chest to listen. Brushing against Clarke as he moved down to check Charlotte's legs, Monty inhaled sharply, and set his hand more deliberately against Clarke's bare arm. He made a sound a little like a kicked cat, and pressed his eyes closed anxiously. 

“She's not the only one who's too cold.” he murmured grimly, and Bellamy's head jerked up to look around swiftly. 

Clarke met Monty's eyes, confused, and weary. “She was laying against me, for who knows how long this cold, I'm chilled from that.” she countered dismissively. 

Monty brushed his hand against her forehead now, and then shook his head. 

“No. No way. It's you, too.” he replied softly.

Bellamy now reached over and wrapped his hand around Clarke's wrist, feeling not just her icy skin, but the racing pulse. 

“Shit.” he cursed gruffly. 

Clarke checked her own pulse, and what little color was left in her face washed away. 

“Then we're sick. A virus....” she muttered, slowly, as the horror of the fact set in. She looked down, brushing her hands carefully across Charlotte, checking discretely under her shirt for any marks or spots, but finding none, then the girl's eyes and nose... no signs appeared. 

Everyone was standing around, watching her with wide, half-panicked eyes, awaiting her orders. 

“Get out.” murmured Clarke quietly, without lifting her face from where she was bent over carefully assessing the girl's lymph nodes. 

“What?” asked Jasper blankly.

“Get out, now. Cover your faces and don't breath on anyone. Wash your hands. See if anyone else is getting sick. Send them in here! Leave supplies for us on the door. Now! Out!” she cried urgently, looking up at them now, each in turn. 

“Go!” she yelled, and Charlotte cried out, eyes still tightly closed. 

En masses, they went, stumbling backwards till they came to their senses enough to turn around before they fell out of the entrance, but Bellamy stood frozen, Charlotte's hand still clasped in his tightly. His eyes were on Clarke though. 

“Did this happen before?” he whispered grimly. 

Clarke shook her head painfully, groaning as she realize just how badly her head was pounding, and she didn't know if was leftover from the guard's hit, or something else.

“No. I've never seen this before. Get out! We need a quarantine. Don't let Trikru come here, or anyone go near them. Go!” she urged frantically. 

“Clarke-” he began roughly.

“No, go! And cover your mouth! You've been exposed! I'm sorry! Just go, Bellamy!” she rambled panicked, hiding her face from him. Visions of kids bleeding from their eyes, and vomiting blood, seizing and dying while she watched nearly brought her to her knees, but she held on. 

Almost ashamed of himself, he carefully lowered Charlotte's hand to the blanket, and she clutched at it automatically. With a last, anguished look to Clarke, eyes dark and haunted, he slowly drew his shirt up to cover his mouth, walking out with heavy, pained steps. 

Clarke wiped at her eyes once he was gone, so relieved to see no traces of red upon her hands, and turned towards her pitiful, homemade supply cabinet. There had to be something she could do for the girl. 

By the time Clarke heard Murphy yelling at her from outside the drop ship, she'd dripped some willow bark tincture down Charlotte's throat, rubbed her obviously aching shoulders and chest with boswellia salve and was trying to get the girl to drink some of the thick elderberry syrup Monty had finished only days ago. 

“I'll be right back.” Clarke promised to the younger girl, and walked slowly to the curtained entrance. Pulling the curtains aside, she did not step out. 

Murphy was standing just beyond the drop ship door, his face uncovered, scowling. On the ramp, though, was a pile of furs. 

“You've got to stay away. I don't know what this illness is.” she implored hoarsely. 

“Wrap up in those.” he countered grimly. She stepped forwards just enough to pick them up, trying not to sway as she leaned over. 

“Stay out, ok? Don't get sick.” urged Clarke wearily, slipping back inside, too tired to even stand there. 

“Think the Ark's sick too?” asked the stubborn boy darkly. 

Clarke shrugged uncertainly. “Yea, I mean, maybe we got this from them. But we could have picked it up somehow on the trip home too, I guess. I think it's a virus, but it could have been tainted water too. Or something in the air... There was no one in the med bay with weird symptoms. ”

In a corner of the drop ship, Clarke made a little nest of the warm furs, and awkwardly maneuvered Charlotte off the exam table, half-carrying, half-dragging the girl to the nest, and throwing the big blanket over her before getting beneath it too. Curled up together on the fire-warmed fur, they shivered, and Clarke listened to the girl's quick, shallow breathing, and quiet, miserable whines until she fell back asleep. 

They only got a half-hour or so of rest though. Slowly Clarke and Charlotte woke to the sounds of shuffling movement and hissed whispers. Opening their eyes, and managing to focus them well enough, the pair realized that there were several people moving around the drop ship, awkwardly and uncertainly. 

“Bell, what?” asked Clarke weakly. 

“Sorry, Princess, tried not to wake you. We rounded up five more sick.” muttered the eldest of their camp gruffly. 

Clarke struggled to her feet 

“Just... just don't let John back in here.” murmured the blonde girl hoarsely. 

“Whatever you want, Princess.” muttered Bellamy quietly. 

“Now get out. Wash hands. Moonshine. Careful.” she ordered faintly.

Once the watchers who'd helped the newest patients inside had hastily followed Bellamy out, Clarke forced herself to walk, trembling and huffing from the misery, through the motions of tending to the newest patients, who'd all been laid down on a bedroll and covered with a warm fur in a row along the wall near the drop ship door. There was Fox, Roma, Atom, Connor, and Myles, looking ashen and clammy, shivering violently even under the furs. Once she'd done that, and halfheartedly dosed herself as well, she left out the three mixtures she'd used on the table and crawled back into the nest with Charlotte. 

Though Clarke was too sick to check her watch, it was only about two hours later, and still early morning, that she woke up again, huffing frantically as she fought to free herself from the fur, and Charlotte's embrace. Skidding away onto the drop ship's cold metal floor, she laid there, gasping for breathe and trembling from exertion as she tried to understand what was happening. Rubbing her own face, she felt not the clammy ice cold of before, but sweat covering her frightening hot skin. She lay there, confused, and miserable, until she could push herself to her knees. Crawling the short distance, she pulled the fur off Charlotte and found her pink faced and sweating badly. Clarke threw the fur away from the girl, and just stared, trying to comprehend the abrupt switch in the illness. 

She glanced over the row of patients, and groaned at the thought of having to force herself over to them. Still, she did it, finding all of them warming up too, with Roma and Myles already sweating badly. With shaking hands, Clarke pulled the furs off of them all anyway, throwing over to where the big blanket from Finn laid in the far corner, past Charlotte. Forcing the willow bark and elderberry remedies down everyone's throat again, including her own, she realized there was already not much left. 

Ashen, Clarke shuffled towards the curtains, and pulled them aside to peer out. 

She wasn't surprised to find Bellamy sitting in front of his tent with a dark scowl on his face. He leaped to his feet when he saw her, and rushed forwards, but she held up her hands in warning. 

“It's turned to fevers, for all of us.” she croaked, and he just nodded blankly. 

“Need more willow bark tincture and elderberry syrup, and anything else Monty can come out up. More water too.” she added weakly, and he nodded swiftly. 

“Okay. Got enough food?” he asked quickly. 

She shrugged painfully. “Don't think any of us are up to eating. Maybe if someone could get some broth cooked.” 

Murphy came slipping inside the curtains, setting down jugs of water, in and out until there was a huge supply just inside the drop ship. No sooner is he done, Bellamy, Harper and Jones are helping to bring in three more kids, all trembling as they grow cold. Those three are barely settled onto bedrolls before there's another four being half-dragged up into the drop ship. Finally Monty yelled out that there were more batches of the remedies waiting for outside the curtain. He'd turned away, heading for the gate where Jasper waited by the time she'd gotten through the curtains. Groans and mumbled words of pleading were beginning to fill the med bay, and Clarke realized several of them were slipping into delirium. She kept going, trying to help them, forcing the tincture and syrup form Monty, and small cups of water, into them all, but finally, she slumped down beside the exam table, passing out into the miserable heat.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 

Day 33, Afternoon, Arkadia 

Abby was pacing, with frustration unabating, through the medical bay, pushed almost to pull her own hair out. How could the kids run away when they'd almost just gotten them back? 

But Kane arrived, looking grim, and what he blurted out successfully paused Abby's internal rant. 

“Abby, a kid just found his mom dead, in their tent.” 

The doctor stood there, gaping at him for only the briefest moment, before she was rushing out of the med bay. He had to turn and rush after her. 

The child, a boy she thought was called Orion, was sitting shakily on the ground, and a crowd had gather around. He looked up at them blankly as they rushed towards him. 

“In there.” directed Marcus quietly, and Abby took a deep breathe before ducking inside. 

On the cot, a woman lay slightly curled up, as if she was sleeping. 

Abby knelt beside the woman, who was likely the same age as herself, with dark hair beginning to hint of gray at the roots, and tried to block out thoughts of the pale, crying boy outside the tent. Examining the woman didn't yield a quick answer- there wasn't really much remarkable. She'd obviously had a fever for she was still damp, and her clothes were drenched in the foul smell. Shifting the clothes around without going to the trouble of stripping the body, Abby quickly decided there were no identifying symptoms, unless perhaps the woman had been bitten by something. There would need to be a more through exam, but not in the tent, not with the young son waiting just outside where Abby could hear his sniffling. 

She still wanted to check the tent carefully- looking for any clues, but a scream rang out from somewhere outside the tent. It didn't sound like the woman's son either.... Kane had been just outside too, though, he could go... So she continued in hastily looking the tent over before ducking out of it- purposefully not looking at the boy still sitting at the entrance. Eyes searching the buzzing camp, she found Kane, just a row away, looking back at her. 

“Abby, we've got a situation!” called the chancellor urgently. Steeling herself with a slow breath, she marched towards him, until she was close enough that he leaned in to whisper in her ear. 

“Another death.” 

Arkadia, Early Afternoon 

“That's five.” muttered Kane in disbelief. 

“This is an outbreak.” murmured Abby.

Marcus scoffed. “It's the radiation.” 

Abby looked at him in bafflement, throwing her hands into the air. 

“What? No! This is... some disease. A virus we're not immune to, or a bacteria.” she argued swiftly. 

“Abby, please be logical. We've been on the ground only a matter of days, and we're starting to just drop dead suddenly. It's the radiation.” pointed out the chancellor grimly. 

“The kids have been on the ground for a month without a single unexplained death!” snapped the doctor fiercely. 

“They are also all 4th gen. Hell, there's a 5th gen child in their number. You know what the difference a generation makes with the genetic engineering.” retorted Marcus.

They stared at each other heavily, each unwilling to concede. What they didn't see was how alike in stubbornness they were. 

“You don't give a damn about the kids, don't even start!” hissed Abby. 

“My daughter is one of them- same as yours!” roared Marcus.

Abby's mouth fell open, and she stepped backwards, sinking against the counter. 

“Your what?” 

He turned away, having not intended to reveal such information now, or perhaps, ever. Much less to her. 

“Octavia Blake.” was his only response, clipped and cold. 

“The second born child.” murmured Abby thoughtfully. “But-” she began confused. 

“I didn't know!” 

“A woman died rather than ask you for help.” went unsaid, but Marcus heard it as clearly as if he'd spoken. 

“When did you find out?” 

Abby's voice rang bluntly clear in the quiet med bay, sequestered away from the masses, and Marcus flinched at it. 

“Clarke gave me a letter before...” admitted the chancellor quietly, not meeting her eyes. 

“Before she was kidnapped.” finished the doctor flatly. 

“Before her friends likely followed her orders.” he corrected gently. 

“She was unconscious- she couldn't tell them anything!” hissed Abby. 

Silence fell again, hot and tense, but he just sighed at her. 

“They were being protective. She's.... involved with that boy. John Murphy.” revealed Kane.

Abby nodded stiffly. 

“An arsonist whose father stole medication.” she snapped. 

“They've all got stories, Abby. Same as Clarke.” 

“Clarke's never-” 

“Did you see how they follow her? They're not going to hurt her.” cut in Marcus harshly. 

The doctor, sitting against the counter now, went silent again, looking towards the doors to ignore him. After a breathe though, she gave a curt nod. 

“They're just kids.” muttered Abby brokenly. 

Day 34, Nearing Sunset, Hundred Camp 

When she woke again to heavy footsteps and low talking, Clarke flinched. 

“Bell? What are you doing? You gotta stay out of here. You can't get this-” she urged desperately, unable to keep her eyes open long, but then she felt his hand on her forehead gently. 

“I hate to state the obvious princess, but your quarantine isn't working.” he replied sorrowfully.

“What?” she asked frantically. Forcing her eyes open again, she looked around to what little she could see form her nest, where someone had carried her obviously. Kids were being pulled and carried inside steadily. 

“It's spreading fast. We're bringing nine kids in now.” answered Bellamy, watching the devastation of this fact hit her. 

That brought the total who'd gotten sick up to twenty-three then. 

“What are we going to do?” she asked wearily, more to herself than anything else.

He was silent, staring at her for a long, miserable moment, but finally he found an answer. 

“I don't think there's anything we can do except ride it out.”

Weakly, she struggled to sit up, and Bellamy swooped in to help her up. With her back against the drop ship's wall, she leaned her head back too, but eyed the room critically. It was swiftly becoming crowded, and she eyed the watchers frantically, wondering how they could be staying well even with their faces covered. Miserably, she realized Sterling was being laid down in one of the rows now too.

“I think I feel better. It's short-lived. I think.” she whispered hoarsely, and quickly Bellamy turned away, returning with water. He eyed her critically. 

“Go. Wash your hands. Be careful. I'll check on everyone soon as you all of out of here.” she urged quietly. 

He nodded slowly. “There's broth on the exam table, more water, and some of that moss. Monty said it would be good for wiping the sweat off....” 

She murmured her agreement, but her eyes were glaring, wanting him to go. Silently, still feeling like a coward for leaving her in here, he left yet again. 

Finishing her cup of water, weak and sore, Clarke hauled herself up to her feet and begin doing the rounds on her patients. There were twenty-two of them now, and it took well more than an hour for Clarke to see to each of them, giving out water, willow bark, elderberry syrup, and wiping their faces off with some water at least, covering up those still shaking with cold, and stripping those who'd turned to sweating while she'd been passed out. 

As she finally made it the last row, near the drop ship door, she froze, and then dropped instinctively to her knees, grabbing a limp wrist for a pulse, and feeling her neck, her chest, and looking her over grimly. The girl had drunk heavily the last time Clarke had done rounds, and seemed no worse off than the rest... but... 

Roma Bragg was dead. 

Kneeling beside the girl she'd never particularly known well, or liked, honestly, who'd died painfully in the other life too... Clarke stayed there for a while, more weary than grief-stricken. 

What had befallen her people now? 

Why was this happening? 

Numb, she rose, and crossed the small space to the curtains. Holding them open, she looked over the camp wearily. 

“I need some help in here.” announced the exhausted healer impassively. 

As Bellamy carried Roma out, Jones was helping Sterling in, and then Clarke's knees threatened to buckle because John came stumbling inside too. He was making his way on his own, but by now he was sickly pale and unsteady. The shivering had started. Hope for him to simply be exhausted rather than sick would have been beyond foolish. She wasn't that much of a fool. Perhaps it'd be easier in a way if she was. 

He laid down right on Roma's bedroll before she could get control of herself again. Well, dropped down on it more honestly. Laying in the space still warm from the first to die from whatever this plague was. Clarke felt rage, and terror, building up. Agonizing breathe, moment by awful moment, she pushed it down, buried it somewhere deep and hoped like hell she could keep it contained for as long as this took. Bringing him water, she knelt down at his side and he wasn't far gone enough yet because he opened his eyes. When he tugged off the makeshift mask, he was even almost smirking at her. 

“I told you to stay away.” muttered the healer resentfully. 

With a vaguely shrugging motion, awkward since he was laying down on his side. 

“Not good at following orders. Even yours.” mocked Murphy with his voice already growing hoarse. 

Accepting the water she offered, he let his eyes close, and only once she was fairly certain he'd fallen asleep did Clarke cautiously run her hand down his face. If not for her mask, she would have risked a kiss too, but instead she rose to make the rounds again while she felt strong enough to. 

When Bellamy entered the drop ship again, his face haphazardly covered, and eyes haunted, he was so dirty that Clarke knew without asking that Roma had already been buried. It seemed impossible that it had been only a few weeks since they'd been fretfully discussing the possibility of the girl being pregnant. Now she was just the tenth grave. 

“I guess I'm supposed to be grateful you left Octavia in Polis.” muttered her partner grimly, looking over the current group of kids still in either the cold or sweating stages. 

“I'm just sorry I didn't leave Charlotte and Murphy too.” muttered Clarke miserably. 

“Really was pissed you let her stay.” admitted Bellamy gruffly with his eyes still slowly sweeping over the sick. 

“I know.” replied Clarke absently. Her eyes were on the sick too- she needed to do another round of giving water, but she was so tired... 

“But you can't keep her caged, Bell. She loves Polis, and she's perfect to be our ambassador, even with her temper... Miller and Wells are the counterbalances to that. Besides, I don't think she was ready to face Kane.” continued Clarke. 

Bellamy's eyes, having gone hard again, narrowed and he turned on his rapidly. 

“Kane?” he pushed. 

Clarke's brows rose as she gaped at him momentarily. 

“I thought you knew.” whispered the blonde. 

“Knew what?” growled the dark haired former guard, advancing slowly, his face that threatening darkness whenever Octavia's welfare was in question. 

On day two of the Arkadia outbreak 

“Well, any news?” asked Marcus Kane, voice a bit muffle by the sterile mask on his face. 

Abby looked up from the row of newest patients, pausing from starting Ivs on them. 

“It's a virus, and I'm certain it's airborne. Jackson is running cultures. It's following a pattern- chills followed by dangerously high fever and profuse sweating. There is some degree of body aches. After several hours, the fever either breaks and the patient goes into an intense sleep, or succumbs. Twelve to eighteen hours total which is an astonishingly short duration. So far we're looking at an approximately fifty percent morbidity rate. We wouldn't be seeing survivors if it was radiation.” explained the doctor. 

Kane nodded grimly, also looking over the various patients, the med bay was literally overflowing. 

“We don't have the supplies to manage this. Nothing is bringing the fevers down. The only things that are helping are pain meds and hydration, but the value of those is limited.” continued Abby bluntly. 

“Do you think the kids left in time?” asked Marcus, ignoring her last comments. 

She looked down now away from him, and didn't answer. 

Day 35, Early Morning, Hundred Camp 

When someone yells from the gate about Trikru approaching, Clarke panics, running from the drop ship and yelling hoarsely from beneath her makeshift mask for them not to open the gate. She tries to scale the platform over the gate, and can't manage it so Bryan hops down from it. He lifts her so effortlessly it's irritating, but then she scrambles up to look out at the fidgeting, obviously unnerved young Trikru boys. 

The oldest can't be more than thirteen, and the other two a bit younger, but Clarke knows the clan well enough by now to suspect they are warriors in training. Their chests likely bear a kill mark or two at least, though they must be about Tris' age, and she'd had five by the time Clarke had met her in another life. She'd been called brave though, Anya's own second, so perhaps that had been more than could be expected for their age. 

Clarke glances back down again at Bryan. Satisfied he wasn't going to join her, she pulled her homemade mask down to speak freely. 

“My people have come down with some sort of fever that we've never known before. Everyone seems to be getting sick, and some have already died. Don't come any closer, I think it's being transmitted through the air.” she announced, not even recognizing her voice particularly well as she strained to be loud and clear enough. As young as they were, how much English would they understand. 

They get the message to go away, at least, and vanish without a word. Clarke watches them go, and wonders if this will be the last time anyone sees her people. It's a morbid thought that she wouldn't normally indulge in, but her head and ribs still ache from that dead guard, and she's feeling that fuzzy light-headness of pure exhaustion. Maybe she's getting sick again. Surely not, but as she drags the cloth back over her face, she wonders. 

“C'mon, I'll catch you.” assures Bryan, looking up at her so steadily she thinks what a good match he is for Nathan. She hesitates anyway, because he's not Miller, who she'd trust her life to without a thought, but in the end, she lets herself drop into his arms. 

But he doesn't set her on her feet once he's caught her. Instead he shifts her around so he's carrying her like a bride, and isn't that obnoxious. Weary and overwhelmed, none of her retorts actually make it out her mouth, and anyway, he sits her down gently on the drop ship door. 

“Need anything?” asks Bryan quietly, with a grim set to his mouth, and suddenly Clarke realizes that this boy literally followed her out of here only to end up in a camp over-run by disease. She's lead Miller's boyfriend right into danger. What a perfect payback for all the loyalty Nathan's shown in both lives. 

She shakes her head, and sends him away. There's patients to deal with. Dehydration will kill them with the way they're sweating even if the virus itself doesn't. Jones has died in the few minutes since she left the drop ship, his body not even having cooled down all the way from the fever before he was gone. 

When John woke again, he knew two things before he even opened his eyes- he felt like maybe, possibly, he was going to make it through this, and that someone was sitting beside him. He'd be willing to bet it was her. 

Opening his eyes, there she was. With her back against the wall next to him, and slumped gracelessly, she was sleeping restlessly. Her nose and mouth still mostly covered though the cut t-shirt she was using as a mask had slipped some. What of her face he could see make something deep within him pang- she was so, so very pale that the shadows beneath her eyes looked like she'd been decked a couple good times. That blonde hair he couldn't help both scoff at and damn near worship was way past tangled and heading swiftly for matted. Squinting in the dim light, he hoped that it was wet from her rinsing it rather than another bout of sweating. If she'd gotten sick again because she was taking care of him, and all these other idiots, he might just kill off all the sick to keep her from having any patients. 

Weakly raising a hand to his face, he held it to his cheek for a long time as he tried to believe what he was feeling. No more fever, right? It seemed too good to be true. Maybe he was dreaming though. He sat up just long enough to grab a nearby fur then cautiously curled up next to her. With his head on her lap, he huddled up and went back to sleep, still not sure he was truly awake, or even if he'd wake again. Either way, it wasn't worth waking her. 

Clarke woke up to the sound of feet trodding heavily into the drop ship, stirring because it either meant more patients, or more supplies. Or both, considering the rate of spread apparently. But when she opened her eyes, first what she noticed was John curled up rather puppy-ishly with his head in her lap, and that he'd huddled underneath a fur. Ignoring the new arrival for another moment, she brushed her hand against his forehead, smiling tiredly when she found him at least close to normal temp, and his eyes opened, looking exhausted but clear. 

“Hey. You hovering because I'm about to kick it?” he asked groggily, and Clarke started to laugh but somehow it turned into tears.

“Shit. Shit, I was joking.” mumbled Murphy, hastily sitting up, but then hesitating a moment... when she smiled weakly, with tears still running down her cheeks, he pulled her in for a hug. It still surprised him that she went with it, and soon her arms were just as tightly around him. 

“Think the fever's gone.” he muttered quietly, just for her ears, and she nodded against his shoulder, taking deep breaths. She was awake enough to at least realize how closely she'd tread the line keeping her from outright exhausted hysteria. 

“Yea. Yea, you're good. Should head upstairs.” she murmured. 

“I'll stay down here.” he replied grimly. 

She straightened up out of his hold, and readjusted her makeshift mask. 

“No, get upstairs. There should still be water and rations waiting. Go.” she instructed insistently. 

“That's your order for me?” he asked quietly, looking away. 

“Yea. Go. Rest.” 

With one last brush of her hand against his arm, she rose slowly, and turned her attention to the where some of the boys were helping new patients lay down in recently vacated spots. 

“Oh, no.” murmured Clarke heart brokenly. 

Bellamy and Monroe were two of the new arrivals, laying next to each other, eyes tightly closed and shaking despite the kids layering the fire-warmed furs over them. Though Derek exited the drop ship as quickly as he could, Harper lingered hesitantly, and despite the strip of what had been a t-shirt now covering her face, Clarke could tell she was obviously wanting to ask about something.

“What?” asked the healer wearily. 

Harper shrugged a bit, looking around to avoid the sharp blue eyes that seemed to see through people. 

“It's just... do you think we got sick from Camp Jaha?” 

Clarke considered her words before she spoke. Personally, she was trying to convince herself that this was purely... happenstance, not a biological attack. But either way, she couldn't let that idea slip out into camp. 

“Until we know if they're dealing with an outbreak too, I don't really know. They only landed a couple days before we got there so that's not much time for them to pick up a virus, but then again, it does seem to have a very short incubation time so... yea.”

“I heard some talk that they had a run in with some grounders, the day they landed.” ventured the tired, anxious girl. 

When Clarke looks back at Murphy, he's stood up, but he's not going for the ladder. Instead he locks eyes with her, and pulls the mask she'd handed him on. 

“Let me help.” muttered the boy grimly enough there could be no doubt he was fully aware of the risks. 

She simply nodded, and showed him how to slowly drip water into the unconscious kids' mouths. It'd be terribly easy to choke them, but he follows her directions warily. The memories of him helping during the outbreak in another life flared up, but she shoved them away. This moment was bad enough. 

Over the gate, Bryan's still standing watch even though it's been hours, and he yells into camp that Trikru has returned. By the time Clarke gets out there, though, the gate's opening, and no one's in sight beyond it. Instead, there's bundles laid in a row, and at least a dozen heavy waterskins. What Lexa has said to Trikru to have them treated this way, Clarke would really like to know. 

What remains of the camp crew is staying busy warming the furs that she throws out of the drop ship, and dousing their hands with moonshine after every time they handle them. Really, Clarke would like to burn all everything used during all of the stages of this plague, but they'd freeze long before they could rebuild their supplies. At least they can rest a little more with some fresh meat and extra water. 

Arkadia 

Abby looked up from where she was wiping off the current youngest patient- the son of the first victim as she heard the heavy, slow footfalls announcing another patient's arrival. They'd had to take over entire hallways around the med bay because of the sheer amount of patients. The dead were piling up outside the walls- dying faster than graves could be dug. 

Exhausted, draped in a gown and face covered with a mask, she already looked wretched, but when she saw the pale, trembling figure shuffling into the doorway, Abby barely bit back a scream. 

'Relapse.” muttered Jackson weakly, meeting her eyes solemnly. 

If survival didn't grant immunity... 

“We're doomed.” whispered the chief doctor. 

 

Marcus Kane stood watch in the med bay. Patients now lay all over the station, and all around camp, as the disease struck down their entire population. They weren't really patients anymore, but victims, since there was no longer a doctor left to care for them. Both Abby Griffin and Eric Jackson lay, curled up, sweating in scalding fevers, on cots now in their own med bay. Jackson had relapsed only hours before Abby, though at least she'd started an IV for him, and Kane had awkwardly been dripping tiny amounts into Abby's mouth, and helping her take sips whenever she roused enough since she'd fallen ill. 

Day 36

Hundred Camp 

“Keep your faces covered. Keep rinsing your hands, the jugs, the bowls and cups, everything with moonshine. Use the whole damn stock if we need too. The furs need to be laying out in the sun at least. There's no immunity after you've had it once. We've got to stop it!” yelled Clarke from the drop ship's door out at the ashen, terrified kids. 

On the first floor, near the door are those still in the cold stage. Beyond them, are those in the sweating stage. Up above, those whose fevers have broken are sleeping off the final stage- damn near comatose exhaustion. Outside, people are recovering once they've rest enough to leave the dropship, and trying not to get sick again. At least thirty of them have gotten sick a second time around, and as she morbidly considers the rate of transmission, of fatality, and the lack of immunity born from survival... it's not looking like there will be a Skaikru to worry about Praimfaya. Each patient should be in total isolation for a minimum of 72hrs, Clarke would guess, and perhaps longer. Really, a week of isolation would be the safest course considering the lack of knowledge on whatever this is. The Hundred Camp can't manage that. Not for nearly ninety people. There's no true isolation, only two half-closed off rooms, and the open air of a small yard, with only torn strips of cotton covering their mouths and noses, and just splashes of moonshine to disinfect with. They're going to keep spreading this around, falling sick again until they're all dead. 

As the fifteenth body is carried out, Clarke sits there, with her back against the exam table, watching over her people numbly. She thinks of the six who aren't here for this. Wells, Octavia and Nathan, all safe in Polis. She thinks of the three in Anya's village, saved because they didn't make the trip with the rest, and wonders how Lincoln didn't fall sick with the sky people. Maybe he has, and the Trikru boys just didn't tell them. At least those half-dozen will survive, and Clarke knows somehow, despite everything that has, and has not in this life, happened, that Lexa will do everything needed to make sure the last of Clarke's people survive. 

Clarke was tiredly wiping sweat off yet another sick delinquent when she heard someone slip through the curtains of the dropship's door. 

“Mary, what is it?” asked Clarke. 

The girl, who worked on what had been Wells' water crew, looked horridly anxious, and sickly pale. The faint shivers become noticeable as she shyly approached. Honestly, Mary Eng was a rather easily overlooked member of the hundred- she was rather quiet, but was nearly always following along with some of the other girls. Clarke had never had much of anything to do with her in either life, except that she'd died of the hemorrhagic fever last time. 

“I should have told you already...” admitted the girl regretfully, looking anywhere but at Clarke. 

“You're here now. So tell me.” 

Mary's thin face ducked even farther towards the floor, and her confession was little more than a mumbled whisper. Having grown used to deciphering the embarrassment of her small clan's hushed murmurs in the medbay, Clarke understood. The delinquents could be awfully mortified over even the most benign rash, mortally ashamed of panic attacks, and rendered near mute by anything related to digestion issues. 

“You're sure?” 

Mary hesitantly nodded, and then, having been hugging herself defensively, slowly shifted position. She pulled up her shirt, and Clarke found herself agreeing with Mary's conclusion. The sixteen year old girl was quite certainly pregnant- but it hadn't happened on Earth, that was for sure.

“You should have told me sooner.” agreed Clarke wearily, running her eyes carefully over the girl. Mary's shoulders hunched a bit more, still looking at the foot, but Clarke sighed. 

“But I understand why you might not have felt like you should.” 

Urging the girl up on the table, Clarke began checking the girl over as best she could without supplies. 

“I really wish I could promise you there's nothing to worry about, but I really don't know. I can promise I'll do anything I can to help.” murmured Clarke quietly, after the examination. 

With Charlotte dispatched to bring her a jug of water and some extra rations, Clarke sought out Bellamy and tugged him along into the dropship, Murphy following close behind. 

“We've got our first pregnancy.” announced the weary medic bluntly. Both Bellamy and John grimaced in sync. She ignored their reactions completely to continue. 

“Mary Eng is four and a half or five months pregnant, and very much underweight. Still in the cold stage. Apparently was terrified to reveal her pregnancy, and if it wasn't for getting sick, she probably would have kept hiding it as long as she could.” 

“The father?” asked Bellamy grimly. 

“Wouldn't tell me his name. Not in camp, though.” 

“Eng was locked up before I was.” said John sardonically. 

John had been in lock-up even longer than Clarke...

“A guard.” said Bellamy and Clarke at the same moment. 

“Not exactly a surprise.” muttered John. 

“Which explains why she won't name him.” grunted Bellamy angrily. 

“But a lot of the guards died on the Exodus ship, and the rest were spread out across the stations, so statistically, he probably didn't make it to Earth.” realized Clarke. 

Monty fell back into the cold, first stage only a little more than three hours after release from the sleeping, third stage. With the quiet, sweet boy's relapse, all hope of survival fell away from Clarke. Wick was convulsing deep in the cold stage so badly that Clarke was sure he'd be the next to die, if someone didn't beat him to it, Raven held too bitterly in the grip of the fever to even know, and Bryan did not seem likely to wake again though his fever was receding. If Clarke had to guess, she would say on average, the peak of the fever was around 103, but Raven, always picked first Raven, could not possibly be under 104 right now, and she was soaking through the thin covers faster than Clarke could drip water into her mouth. 

What she wouldn't give for an IV set up right now... and her fingers twitched towards Murphy's knife uncertainty. At what point was she no longer trying to get her old friend through this, but rather watching her struggle towards a cursed, laboriously slow death? If she killed off the currently sick, would the virus die with them? Would those right now recovering up above, and outside, be free from falling sick again? If she slit the throats of the nearly three dozen kids sleeping crowded together around her right now, would she be saving the other fifty? Two dozen upstairs sleeping it off, two dozen outside trying to hold the camp together even as everything fell through their fingers... Was it worth saving them through such an act? Killing Finn to save hundreds had been hell, but it had been blatantly obvious in it's righteousness. Sell her soul and trade his life for countless lives? Yes, damn her to hell. Save (maybe) four dozen at the price of three? As much as she ached to give at least some of her people a chance... Those numbers... did not make sense. Not even to the commander of death. 

Was the room growing colder? Was her back aching from the abuse of days of work and sleeping on the floor, or was the anxious ache creeping down her spine from the virus attacking? Again. 

Day 36, Late Afternoon, Polis 

“Heda, a messenger from Anya kom Trikru has arrived.” announced Titus. 

Lexa waved them in and crossed the room to sit on her throne to wait. 

The Trikru youth approached anxiously once allowed in, but he was a messenger often used by Anya, so he presented the information easily enough. 

“Anya believed that Heda would wish to know that the Skaikru camp if afflicted with the sweating sickness.” 

On her throne, Lexa froze, her dagger against the armrest. 

“Is is definite that is what ails them?” she asked coldly. 

“Yes, Heda. There were seven dead by the time I left. Three of their people remain in our village.” 

“Go rest, report in the morning. You will carry a message home with you.” barked Lexa grimly. 

Once the boy had gone, slipping away, knowing he'd be fed and watered soon, Lexa looked to Titus, who bowed his head. 

“I know you had numerous plans this may alter.” conceded her adviser gently. 

She grimaced at him, looking away. “Call for the Skaikru delegation.” she ordered instead of arguing with him. 

Day 37, Hundred Camp 

Pacing, swaying on her feet, and spilling as much water as she manages to drip successfully into the mouths waiting all around her tortured sham of a med bay, Clarke is swamped in that foul sweat and grimacing without cease, the fever gripping her for the third time as she forces herself, somehow, to check on her people, every time she can claw her way to consciousness again. She falls into the blackness, passing out at patients' side too many times to count, and she almost can remember her own voice, saying she was glad the virus was so quick, the first stage if brief, and the second only hours long... The fever is peaking, and she can't stay awake anymore. There's no way she can fight it another minute. 

How long she was passed out this time, she has no idea. Now Clarke's fever had only just broken, and she was fighting the call of the third stage, which some entered only to die, and some to gain the strength to live, because Fox was there still struggling in the fever's thrall, but it was lessening, Clarke was sure of it. Sixteen were dead, and everyone else was either sleeping off the third stage, or outside, trying desperately not to fall again. The world has narrowed down to this one last victim still held in the hot misery. It is Fox, the last in the grip of the fever, and Clarke will not surrender to either death or healing until Fox has accepted her own fate. Death, or healing sleep. 

Dawn is coming, and though her eyes close against her will again and again, Clarke remains sitting, holding Fox's head on her lap, and waiting for the girl's fate to become clear before she gives into her own. All around them, teenagers sleep deeply into the near-coma of healing, that third stage Clarke hates, and craves for each of them anyway, they should be moved to the upper floor, but there's no one to make it happen. Mary, Harper, and Jasper are all among those sleeping nearby. She won't call anyone in here to risk infection again, not when she and Fox will either soon join the ranks of either the recuperating or the dead. Had she come back only to watch her people die from a different catastrophe? 

The fever is surely fading, and as the girl's head cools to normal, as the sweat finally ceases and dries on her pale skin, Clarke is falling into the darkness, holding it back only by the force of her very soul's insurmountable will. She will lay down for death and accept it into her body, again, but not until Fox is safely on the other side of this abyss. Dawn comes, giving the faintest hint of glow to the curtains, and Clarke's hand is too heavy to move from Fox's forehead now. They've done so poorly in preventing the spread, and Clarke wonders if the next time she wakes will be the familiar trod of more patients being brought back inside, freshly sick. If Fox will truly be the last, or if the cycle is preparing to begin again... 

Together, with cooled bodies covered in the noxious scent of sweat, their breathing is slowing down from that frantic pace of the fever. Fox's eyes opened, once, twice, three time, and by then, the sun has given just enough light for her to see the closed eyes, and blonde matted hair to dimly recognize the one keeping wait with her. Clarke's head has fallen back to rest on the wall, and Fox stares at her as long as she can force her eyes to stay open. Whether the older girl is sleeping or dead, she can't tell, and she's not sure which she herself is heading for, but at least there's a friend with her for the end, of the fever, or life, either way.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I finished NaNoWriMo today! 51K written this month, and finished (the first draft) of this story. It's turned out to be 30 chapters and somewhere around 100k total. I'm posting this to celebrate! It's short, but the next chapter just needs some spellcheck and a last look over it, so it'll probably be posted tomorrow. Please let me know what you think!

Chapter Twelve 

Day 37- evening, Hundred Camp 

Before sunset, the survivors gather together outside at the newly much expanded graveyard. There are now twenty-five dead- a quarter of their people, wrapping around the wall in two rows. Twenty-five deaths in their thirty-seven days on Earth. The entire remaining camp is pale from their own slow recovery, and the sheer horror of their collective loss. 

Clarke sits at the edge of the graveyard, beside Finn's, with Charlotte huddled beside her, while Bellamy reads the list of names she wrote of the casualties. Their names will be added to the rough plaque on the wall soon, and they'll need to add a second one after this probably. 

Wick stands between Monty and Raven, wide-eyed, but few notice his horrified murmur- “1 in 4 dead in less than 40 days. At this rate-”. 

“Shut up, Wick.” hissed Raven. 

Even after the rest of the camp had shuffled back through the gates, Clarke remained, sitting wearily on the ground with her knees drawn up to rest her head upon. John sat beside her, grim and fidgeting with a knife as usual. 

Twenty-five graves. How is it that they had peace with the grounders, had avoided the Mountain Men, but had twenty-five graves anyway? 

“Earth is starting to feel like a slow ass game of Russian roulette. It'd be more exciting if it was faster at least.” remarked the boy at her side mockingly. She snorted softly, eyes fixed ahead her at the two rows as she contemplated how the hell this had come about. 

“Twenty-five of my people that I failed.” whispered Clarke. 

The paleness of her face, and the deep shadows beneath her eyes spoke of more than her physical weariness. Her words were faint, and weak, so unlike her normal self. 

“You didn't fail. This isn't your fault.” insisted the still pale, still exhausted boy trying to lead her away from the graveyard.

“I am their leader, and their healer. The one who lead them on the trip they got sick. The one who couldn't save them.” 

“You can't save everybody.” whispered John.

“What if I can't save anyone?”

She whimpered, and rested her head on his shoulder. John had no idea what to say, so instead he just held her. His arms around her were so tight it was almost painful. It was the only thing anchoring her. 

Day 38

Outside Hundred Camp 

Yes, they needed to restock their stores, but not a single one of them felt well enough to go wandering around on a hunt yet. It was a weary, rather pessimistic group making their way around through the trees. Monroe, Myles, and Sterling had rallied enough to volunteer, but neither Fox nor Harper were up to it yet, so Bellamy and Murphy had been roped into going. 

Murphy was trailing behind the hunting party, gun at ready, but much less than eager about this trip. As Bellamy continued to slow down, hanging back from the group more and more, Murphy began to eye him warily instead of the surroundings. 

“Do you and me have a problem?” asked John sarcastically. 

“I don't know. You gonna make her regret picking you? Trusting you?” countered Bellamy sharply. 

John sneered, kicking a limb out his way angrily. 

“You think I'm stupid enough to mess up the first good thing in my life?” snapped the younger boy furiously. 

Bellamy just snorted at the other's temper, looking away from the pissed off kid to keep an eye on the hunting party that was nearly out of sight by now. 

“I'm not.” growled Murphy. 

The older of the pair remained silent, scooping around them causally, and waiting as they walked along, just quickly enough to not completely lose their group. In his irritation, Murphy was crunching leaves harshly as he stomped about, so they wouldn't be doing the hunters any favors by staying close away.

“The princess is the first person to give a shit about me since my dad got floated. Nobody is going to fucking hurt her.” said Murphy angrily as they walked. 

“Then you and me don't have a problem.”

Bellamy stared down at the younger boy intently, reading the wary, defensive prickliness, but also the stubborn honesty. Slowly, he decided that the kid probably didn't even realize how bad he had it for the princess, but it wasn't something Bellamy was going to point out. As long as Octavia's friend wasn't about to made a fool of, he'd leave well enough alone. 

 

Day 39, Arkadia 

Dr. Abigail Griffin stood on unsteady legs, held up by sheer stubbornness more than physical strength, and looked over the camp with bitterness seeping through the shock. 

“It's over.” she whispered. 

Jackson was at her side with shaking hands and bloodshot eyes. 

“It's been more than twenty hours since the last fever broke, and almost twenty-four since the last death.” agreed the younger doctor in agreement. 

“Fifty-seven percent fatality.” murmured Abby blankly. 

“What... what do we do with the bodies?” asked her former apprentice quietly. 

Abby looked over the camp again, disbelief still rumpling her face. 

“I don't know. Mass graves. I guess.” muttered the once medical chief of the Ark. 

Bodies, and still weakly recovering survivors lay intermixed throughout the camp. 

Kane motioned Jackson over, and they picked up one, slowly carrying the victim outside the gate. There, they, and some of the others recovered enough to help, began to slowly lay out the lost. No one yet had the strength to begin digging graves, but they at least needed the bodies out of the way. 

It was days after the last death they got the last body laid into a grave. There were twelve in all space out around the fence, nearly encircling the camp. Survivors huddled around them, murmuring the traveler's blessing quietly. No one had the will to try for a true memorial. Even the heartiest of them was still ashen and wide-eyed from the sheer trauma of watching their entire camp sicken, and half of them die. 

In the end, Abby stoically declares the sweating sickness, which bears the most resemblance to a medieval English disease. 

/skip/ 

Day 45 

Anya's Village 

Anya's village is hardly an hour's walk from Hundred Camp, and is honestly much more impressive than Nyko's little camp. It's easily ten times as large, and while still an electic mix of structures, it's clearly more handbuilt scavenged. But in this life, Clarke has never visited Nyko's tiny home, so she can't ask about the difference. Perhaps it is simply that there are so many more people here. 

There must be two hundred people here, and it's much easier to look around when she's not fighting for her life trying to escape. This is where she killed Caliban, and where she failed to save Tris. It's an throbbing unpleasantness to be back here at first. As she looks around, seeing more than she had noticed the last time, it's easier. This is obviously a home. Not merely a place from her nightmares. 

Her people were absolutely earnest in their efforts to follow the commands Caliban gave. They were blatantly failing anyway. Not that the grounders were surprised. Nor Clarke. The frustration was growing among the Skaikru kids anyway. 

Lincoln survived it as a child during the last outbreak. Maybe Lincoln comes to see the camp the day after the boys bring water/meat. This also means it won't have to be two weeks before they go to the village. 

Lincoln's face was so stiff, Clarke often imagined how Octavia had first realized the depth of the warrior's affection for her. What had made the girl so confident that he loved her that she was willing to cut herself with a poisoned knife? 

“Your people have survived the sweating sickness.” stated the Trikru man impassively. 

“How often does it resurface?” 

“It used to be more common, but it has been... eleven years since the last outbreak in our lands. Azgeda suffered it last only a few years after that. I do not know of the other clans.”

“How do you treat it?”

“There is no cure except strength and time. When it comes to a village, it takes the weaker half.” 

“If there's no cure, how do people not just pass it back and forth constantly?” 

“Once you have survived it, you will not fall ill with it again.” 

“Lots of people had it twice, I went through it three times!” countered Clarke grimly. 

Lincoln shook his head at her misunderstanding. 

“That was the same outbreak, though, you had not had time to grow immune. Now you have. The survivors never need fear it again, and children born to mothers who've survived will never fall to the sickness.” 

“So all but six of my people will be immune to it from now on.”

“I leave for Polis tomorrow on Heda's orders, but Trikru will look out for you still. The commander will not allow the Mountain Men nor the Old Sky People to overtake your people.”

 

Day 49

Hands bound in front of him, a guard squeezing either arm, the so-called guest held his head regally and smirked anyway. Walking into the commander's audience chamber like he was perfectly at ease with this all. 

“Roan of Azgeda.” greeted Heda coldly. 

“Heda.” replied the banished prince impassively, remaining standing until the guards jerked him down to his knees. 

“Out.” ordered the young commander to her guards, who reluctantly left, with one last threatening glare to the kneeling prince who ignored them still. 

“I am pleased you answered my summons.” announced Lexa, eyeing him carefully from her throne. 

Roan quirked a brow and let himself smirk at her again despite the risk it was. 

“I have a deal for you.” she continued.

“I will lift your banishment, if you complete a mission for me.”

“You will kill a Sky Person named Charles Pike whom is moving through Azgeda territory, you will end your mother's little nightblood pet Ontari, and your mother. I will lift your banishment, and pronounce you King of Azgeda myself.” 

“And what do you get from this?” asked Roan sarcastically.

“Pike is a threat to the alliance with Skaikru, Ontari is a threat to my novitiates, and your mother is a threat to the coalition as a whole. I have worked too hard to bring together the clans to allow them to fall now.” 

“How long do I have to complete this series of missions?” 

“Three months, or I will end our deal and send out another to complete it. The sooner, the better, and I will provide additional rewards for early completion.” 

“You may tell your mother that I am sending you to Azgeda in order to gather information about the sky people who landed there, with the lure of lifting your banishment if you please me.”

“When do I leave?” 

“You will remain here for now. The Skai Prisa is due to arrive soon, and I wish for you two to meet. If you complete your mission, you will be a part of the coalition again, and all the rest have met her already. The young Sky People are loyal allies to the coalition, though the elders are separate, and unlikely to be so. The clock shall not begin until I send you from the city.” 

Day 51 

 

“Prisa Clarke kom Skaikru?” asked the girl who came trotting into the open ground center of Anya's village. 

The village leader herself stepped forwards, from where she'd been observing Tris' practice with throwing knives, alongside the Skaikru. 

“Why do you come, Ora?” called Anya from across the ground. 

“Heda sends a message to the Skai Prisa.” announced the scruffy girl, not much younger than Clarke herself. 

“She is one of the commander's regular messengers.” affirmed Anya, looking pointedly still at the girl rather than glancing at Clarke. Calmly, Clarke left Bellamy's side, with Murphy following her automatically, to meet the girl. 

Once Clarke stood before her, with John stubbornly at her side, their arms brushing, the girl Anya had called Ora sized up the sky princess warily, before nodding in approval. 

“Heda would have you know that a mutual friend has arrived in Polis and will await your arrival.” announced the messenger flatly, without any interest in the words she spoke.

Day 52 

“You don't have to come, you know.” murmured Clarke with her head still down on the lumpy moss-stuffed cushion they used for a pillow. His arms still around her, though the faintest hints of light were beginning to seep through the tent, he scoffed at her comment. 

“Where you go, I go. Unless you're gonna order me to stay.” drawled John. 

Smiling quietly, she leaned closer to him in answer. 

“How much time do we have?” 

Late night, after riding all day. 

“Prince Roan of Azgeda, I am pleased to meet you finally.” announced Clarke formally, but she couldn't completely restrain herself from beaming at him in relief at seeing him again, alive, well enough. 

His eyes sparkled curiously. “Prisa Clarke kom Skaikru, the great prophet fallen to Earth, I am surprised you have even heard of me.” he countered charmingly with that self-assured smirk she'd seen often in another life.

The smile grew wider on Clarke's normally so stoic face at hearing his voice again. 

“Oh, I hear many surprising things.” she dismissed causally, though that smile gave her away. 

“If it takes submitting to Heda's chores for us to meet, it is worth it. Call me Roan, please.” announced Roan with that arrogant, sly smirk Clarke did not know until seeing it again that she'd missed so much. 

They'd been enemies, friends, conspirators... and in the end, when she'd heard of his death, there had been no time to grieve, or even consider the loss, except in the most practical aspects. 

She'd missed him. 

“Only if you call me Clarke.” she countered lightly.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen 

Day 53

“Prisa, how fortunate to find you here.” murmured Roan grandly. 

Clarke looked up at him with a brief smirk, but let him join her without protest. 

“You do know that unlike Azgeda, my people don't actually have royalty, right? It was just a nickname that Lexa is running with. Actually, my people didn't even use it affectionately at first. My parents were high-ranking on the Ark, so I was hated for my family's position.” 

He smirked at her, leaning onto the railing close beside her, though not touching. Together they looked absently out over Polis. Below them, the city was rowdy with movement and hustle, unlike the stern quiet that most often pervaded the commander's tower. 

“I've never seen a woman so well-suited for the title, though.” 

Clarke threw him a glare that he only smirked at, as she assumed he was mocking her as the weak little girl from the sky, as many grounders made very clear. 

“I have heard that the lines of the Sky People are drawn between the youth and the elders.” ventured Roan curiously.

“Not exactly. Skaikru is my people, and the first of the sky people to come down. We didn't have a choice. There was a hundred of us chosen, and tossed from the sky to see if the radiation was low enough to survive. I am the eldest, and the youngest is twelve... Bellamy and Raven both found ways to sneak down too, because they cared for one of the hundred. They're older, though, Bell's twenty-two, and Raven's nineteen. We've had a couple others join us from Arkadia since they came down.” 

Clarke explained skybox, and floating, and the Ark's laws, and system failure, as well as she could. This Roan, however, had not yet seen anything of the sky technology, or their custom, however, and though he nodded curtly, she was fairly certain he wasn't following very well. 

“So if you are the eldest, then how old are you?” 

“I turned 18 in the middle of the outbreak of sweating sickness, actually. It was still a better way to spend it than I would have if we had not come to Earth.” said Clarke with her eyes glinting with some perhaps dark humor. 

He smirked at her, thinking she was jesting, but she returned the look. 

“Oh, you see, the leaders of the Ark, including my mother, would have gathered up in the middle of the night and tossed me off the ship- a nice, neat death without any corpse to deal with. It was the fate all of Skaikru looked forward to.” explained the young leader ruefully. 

“You were prisoners?” asked Roan impassively. 

Clarke shrugged. 

“According to them. We've all got our own stories though. My father was the Chief of Engineering, the single most important task in the sky. I learned a secret, that our home was dying, and so I was kept in a room without seeing or speaking to another person for more than a year before we were dropped. He was executed for wanting to go public. My mother's the one who turned him in. Octavia was hidden under the floor for fifteen years, and when found, was arrested for being born a second child. Her father was a councilman on the Ark, and now is chancellor. Wells, one of my advisers, is the son of the former chancellor who killed my father, Octavia's mother, and dropped us. Of course he is responsible for Wells' mother dying too. More than half of the hundred that I was dropped with were orphans by the time they were arrested- almost all because of execution or medical rationing. Now there's only a few of us who have one parent left. Nobody has both.” 

“I am beginning to understand why Heda is so certain of your loyalty to her rather than the people you were born to.” remarked Roan dryly. 

She leaned upon the rail trustingly, considering how ravaged the tower was, looking out over Polis without curiosity. The banished noble copied her, but watcher her more than the city below them. 

“In the Sky, loyalty, even between spouses, was mostly an illusion. People who push their friends, parents, lovers, off the ship just to feel like they were safe from the same fate for a little longer. Even children were disposable. Here on Earth, under Lexa's coalition, I have hope to survive, and a chance for peace. It is more than Arkadia could offer, even if they wanted to. The ground is brutal, I know, but the sky was worse. I'll die on the ground happier than I could have ever lived in space.” 

Roan had watched her as she talked, though she was still looking out over the city. The way the emotions flowed so deeply when she wasn't working to conceal them told a story even better than her bitter, frank words. When she stopped speaking, huffing out a weary sigh, he thoughtfully considered the similarities between them. Not that he would admit to it, for now matter how jaded she seemed, she was still a soft, untrained eighteen year old. 

“I would like for us to be allies.” ventured the young skyborn princess quietly into their quiet. 

“If I complete Lexa's orders, I will be restated to Azgeda, which is already Skaikru's ally through the coalition.” reminded the banished ice prince dismissively.

She shook her hair just enough to rumple the blonde mane a bit, her eyes flicking around them cautiously before they returned to him.

“I don't mean Skaikru and Azgeda, I mean, you and me.” she corrected even quieter. 

Finally, she had his full attention, that crafty look to him as he leaned slightly closer, hovering a bit, informed her. It was a look she knew well- perhaps, in fact, how she best knew him. This was a Roan she'd plotted murder, treason, and salvation with numerous times- even if he didn't know it. 

“And why is that? If I fail, I remain nothing but splita.” 

She moved closer as well, too close if someone came across them, but unable to stop herself. 

“First of all, I'm confident you're not going to fail. But secondly... if the coalition falls, there wouldn't be any tie between our people.” 

A lot was going unsaid. Clarke knew this man, even if he didn't know her now. To her, Roan seemed like some warrior king from the middle ages. He was also far too clever to insult by spelling things out for him. He appraised her slowly, watching as she offered him a knowing smirk, and finally... nodded briefly. 

Drawing a knife, he quirked a brow at her. “My people seal alliances in blood.” 

“I know.” said the girl firmly, holding her hand out for his knife. 

The sharp inhale gave away his shock when her blood welled up, he met her eyes, looking more astounded than she'd ever seen. Clarke smiled slowly at his reaction. Never before had she been able to surprise him so much. 

“Natblida.” whispered the banished prince in awe. 

When their hands met, bloody and open, she smiled at him for just a moment. Blood and secrets under Polis' sky- a fitting beginning of an Earth friendship. As they kept their hands clasped just long enough for the blood to mix, Clarke promised herself to try to keep this man alive, even if he wasn't Skaikru. 

“Does Heda know?” asked Roan quietly.

Clarke nodded. “My apprentice and ambassador are both nightbloods too. Though there might be more in Skaikru, not to mention Arkadia. In the sky, it was so rare, and so taboo that few people had even ever heard of it.” 

The way he eyed her now, as they retracted their own hands, had changed. Clarke wasn't sure if it was a change for the better, but Roan had always been a honorable man. She'd trust him with her life without question. With all of their lives, now that was the question. 

“Natblida, skai prisa, heda's conspirator... who are you, Clarke kom Skaikru?” wondered Roan as he looked down into her bright blue eyes, so perfectly suited to a girl from the sky, just as her hair made him think of the sun. 

Out of nowhere, before Clarke could even consider bandaging her hand, Titus appeared, reminding Clarke he was not just a priest playing politician, but a warrior well versed in stealth as well. A message from Lexa, summoning Clarke to the training yard, for a change. With a bow and a heavy smirk from the ice prince, who'd folded his hands behind his back, just as she had, Clarke followed Titus curiously. 

In the training yard, she was grateful for Lexa's idea. Clarke stood proudly, though she tried to keep her face blank, side-by-side with Lexa, watching. Her people were all sparring hand-to-hand with members of Lexa's personal guard. Neither the only girl's confident prowess, nor John's frustrated struggle to keep up, was surprising, but Wells and Nathan's progress in just a few weeks was. Lexa had informed her, rather smugly, that the pair spent six days a week training with any of ther guards who had time. When Lexa was called away, looking for just the briefest flash exasperated, by her adviser, Clarke decided to stay, watching the rough training until the warriors waved her people away for the day. 

In a flash, Octavia had waved at her, but then vanished. The excitement Clarke suspected she'd seen on her friend's face made her a little suspicious, but Wells, Nathan, and John all came trudging towards her, pushing Octavia's mysterious exit away from her mind for the moment. 

“That looked great.” offered Clarke to the sweating boys with a brief smile. 

Murphy shrugged, he was all too aware of her ranking compared to the other two, much less Octavia, and didn't meet her eyes. None of them wanted to talk about just how sore they were after being put through their paces by the grounders, or to tell her that it'd been even harder once Lexa had shown up to observe. 

“Dinner tonight in our room?” suggested Clarke, changing the subject when both Wells and Nathan looked awkwardly away as well. 

The four separated to their respective rooms once they made it into the tower. As he cleaned up, John was quiet, sullen, and tired, Clarke staying out his way hesitantly. With only a brush against her arm, still not meeting her eyes, he disappeared from their room once he'd changed. 

 

By the time Wells turned up, without Nathan, John hadn't made it back, and quick round of the training yard and tower hadn't produced Octavia either. 

“You're making friends quickly.” said Wells quietly. 

The words, repeated from another life, but thrown back at her from Wells instead, startled Clarke. Biting her lip, she tried not to show it, but he still knew her well enough to understand she was unsettled. 

“Yea, I guess.” muttered the young leader with forced casualness. 

“Down here, I suppose no one is looking down on you because of your parents.” mused her oldest friend thoughtfully. 

“Same for you.” reminded Clarke reflexively. 

“The grounders... do not take to me the way they do you.” explained Wells, not quite looking at her. 

At his side, she stiffened up again, and this time didn't bother trying to hide her reaction.

“Has something happened? What's wrong?” asked Clarke urgently, trying to meet his eyes. 

Wells shook his head hastily and he rushed to reassure her, finally meeting her eyes again. 

“Nothing. Nothing's wrong.” 

Reaching out the short space between them, Clarke grabbed his hand and squeezed, concern still etched on her face with a frown. 

“It's just that even people seem to be... flocking to you.” 

The door creaked shut behind them, and Clarke breathed easier, knowing that they were unlikely to be disturbed before dawn. Of course, her mind reminded her pessimistically, that just meant if they were sought out then it was going to be some sort of emergency, or attack... 

It appeared that Lexa was making an apology for the endless meetings today. Not only did their dinner wait on the small table, but a bath had been prepared. It was steaming faintly, obviously tended only moments before they arrived. 

John smirked at the bath, but otherwise ignored it in favor of dropping into a seat by the now. 

“Oh, I love Polis.” he announced slyly, looking around at everything from the food, so much more lavish than their fare in camp, to the bed, and finally to Clarke. 

She snorted absently, crossing the room tiredly to dip the tips of her fingers cautiously into the water. Flinching at the heat, she gave up on the thought of climbing in right away. Once she joined him with the food, they ate quietly for the most part. 

“You think that guy is actually going to hold up the commander's deal?” asked Murphy randomly as they finished off their tray. 

Clarke nodded, taking a drink before she replied. “Probably. I mean, he benefits too. A lot. As things stand right now, he'd never be king, and the terms would put him on the throne immediately. So yea, probably. But... you never know. He was supposed to marry Ontari. If he did, then his mother would probably take him back, regardless of Lexa's exile order. ” 

She meant to elaborate more, to offer him a reason to trust in the admittedly vague explain but the right words didn't seem to come. Instead, she rested her arms on the table, and then her head on her arms. Across from her, she could hear his scoff, and him getting up, but other than muttering something about asses, ignored it. 

Then she felt his hands brushing down her legs. Moving her head just enough to peek below the table, she saw him unlacing her boots. With a smile, she rested her head again. John tugged off her boots, then her frankly awful socks, before he stood up and took hold of her arm to pull at her lightly.

“C'mon, you look pathetic.” announced the smirking boy. 

“Thanks.” muttered Clarke, though it was muffled. 

“Bath's probably cool enough now.” reminded Murphy teasingly. 

With a groan, she picked up her head and let him pull her up to her feet. John tugged her jacket off, then pulled her shirt over her head, Clarke rolled her eyes, pulling off her jeans and underwear to climb into the now perfectly warm water. To her amusement, Murphy sat down beside the tub, pulling out a knife and stone from his pocket to sharpen it, which seemed to be his sole hobby besides following her around. 

Laying down, Clarke snuggled closer to John, and as always when she did, he wrapped his arms around her almost too tightly. 

“I could really get used to this.” whispered Murphy into her ear. 

The words were about more than the good food, comfortable beds, warm baths, and frequent pleasure, she was willing to bet. He was hinting more about the way they clung to each other every night, more about how they'd quietly decided to face things together, and more about how it felt so warmly familiar, instead of just a few weeks. Time on Earth was so different from the Ark, a week could easily feel like a whole month. She breathed deeply- taking in the absolute relaxed ease of the moment. Maybe it could be more than just relief from loneliness, and sticking close to have someone watching their backs. 

“Yea, me too.” replied Clarke softly. 

Day 54, Early Morning, Polis 

As Roan prepared to leave, even before the first light, he saw a hooded figure approaching. If not for the glimpse of golden hair peeking from the hood, he might have been on guard. The Skai Prisa, dressed simply except for the fine, sky blue cloak Roan was willing to bet was a gift from the Commander, looked like an angel descending upon him. 

“Good morning, Prisa.” 

“I told you to call me Clarke.” she murmured. 

“It's very early for a walk about Polis.” he countered. 

“I came to see you off, and wish you good luck on your mission.” 

“You know of it?” 

She nodded simply. “I do. Charles Pike is a man whom should not walk on the ground if we are to have any peace, and for the other two... I see the benefits. I hope you will be careful.” 

“Oh, I have no intention of losing my head.” 

“May we meet again, Roan.” murmured Clarke softly. 

The exiled prince smiled charmingly at her, capturing her hand gently and bringing it up to kiss swiftly. 

She laughed at him, and it was the first time he'd heard it, in his memory at least. 

“Oh, I will see you again even if I must wage battle to do so.” he promised, kissing her hand once again before finally releasing her. 

Without another word, or even a moment's hesitation, he swung himself up on the horse and nodded to her before he began with a swift nudge of his boots. 

Biting her lip, lost in thought, Clarke stood alone, watching Roan ride away. The exiled prince held the power to see their plans succeed, or drag them down with himself. As much as she knew him, she still wasn't sure of what would happen. Bellamy had believed her story, what if she told Roan?


	14. chapter fourteen

Chapter Fourteen 

Day 54 

According to Lexa, it showed unity for Clarke to be suffer through seemingly endless meetings in the commander's hall. It was beneficial for Lexa's people to get more comfortable with the sky princess, which could only happen in her presence. That all sounded... reasonable. Yet Clarke's itched with impatience and annoyance. She couldn't force herself to stay quiet for long, and they never liked hearing her opinions. At her side, Octavia, hardly a pillar of restraint herself, fed off the restless energy. This was probably just making things worse. That didn't make it any easier to bite her tongue though. 

The day wore into evening, and though Lexa would dismiss the meetings as swiftly as she could, Clarke continually found herself summoned back to listen to yet another issue be harked on. At least the sun having set, the guards and the healers both had ended training for the day. When not even dinner gave Clarke much of a reprieve, this time, she brought all of her people along with her. 

At least this time, with Gustus and Indra arguing over grazing land divisions, it was mostly a Trikru issue. Still, the ambassadors en masse were there, because it'd been brought before Lexa. They dragged it out, offering sly comments whenever possible. When Skaikru found itself being mentioned as a complication of the land divisions, Clarke jumped to her feet to argue back... 

There was just the briefest moment of silence. 

She was frozen watching death come for her. Like she was buried, no sound made it to her. 

Somehow he moved just quickly enough. John Murphy fell the same moment the sword was swiftly pulled back from his body, and Clarke followed him to the ground. Frantically she pulled him into her arms. The world came rushing back. Suddenly Charlotte was sobbing somewhere in the room, and Costia fell into quiet weeping, still standing upon the dais. The petty arguments over land evaporated, only for accusations to begin boiling up. She ignored it all. 

“Don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me!” whispered Clarke as she cradled his head upon her lap. His eyes wouldn't open, but Clarke swore she saw his lips twitch to shape her name. 

Lexa's eyes were frantic as she called out, over and over- “Clarke! The alliance!” , Titus was roaring at the grounder guards, and Miller was barely restraining Octavia with Wells' help. 

It was background noise. Might as well not be happening. Everyone scrambling around, panicking, the precious alliance hanging in the balance... 

The scene was so familiar, bringing her back to watching Lexa bleed out, unable to halt death when she most desperately wished to. His last breath passed so quickly then John lay at her feet as Clarke struggled brokenly to stand. 

Clarke's world narrowed to Gustus', forced onto his knees by other guards, barely a foot away, looking up at her fiercely. Lashing out viciously, Clarke slit his throat before anyone could comprehend what she was going to do. Then she knocked him backwards onto the floor as he died. To her knees she dropped again between the dead men. The bloody knife, that Murphy had made and given to her, still in hand. She looked up in a mockery of submission to the heda. 

“The alliance, Commander?” asked Clarke icily, eyes never wavering from Lexa's wide green. 

Lexa looked horrified only a moment longer, before she visibly composed herself, and gave a single, violently curt nod. 

“The alliance stands, Skai Prisa. Blood has answered blood.” she stated coldly, eyes not leaving Clarke's, not straying even to the pair of dead.

Clarke repeated the agreement viciously before rising with her eyes still locked upon her once-lover. 

“We go home to bury our dead.” snapped Clarke coldly. 

“You may... prepare him for travel in this chamber, and I will have... transportation arranged in the morning.” stated Lexa, much quieter than before.

“We're leaving as soon as our horses can be readied.” snapped the blonde angrily.

Lexa nodded. “As you wish. Your horses will be waiting at the doors.” agreed the commander grimly. 

“Clear the room!” bellowed Lexa firmly.

The pair of guards who'd restrained Gustus now lifted him into the air, carrying him out. The audience chamber swiftly emptied of everyone but Skaikru, Lexa, and the ashen-faced Costia. Even Titus strode out, as hard faced as ever but moving hurriedly. 

“Your people have drawn first blood.” accused Clarke bitterly. 

“I would have executed him for it had you not.” assured Lexa solemnly. 

Clarke's eyes finally fell back down to the remaining form on the floor just beyond her boots. The sky princess shook her head harshly enough that her braided crown loosened, strands falling from it.

“That doesn't give him back to me.” hissed the blonde fiercely. 

“I will... stay with him and prepare him for travel, if you will allow me to.” murmured Costia thickly. 

Clarke lifted her gaze to stare at Lexa's lover harshly. Slowly, though, she nodded. Somehow Lexa's lover was a kind, even gentle girl, and a dedicated healer in training. For now, Clarke decided she could trust the Trikru girl.

“We're going grab our things then leaving as soon as possible.” muttered Clarke bitterly, turning away, with her remaining delegation following her, shell-shocked, from the audience chamber. 

She did not looked back to see Costia kneel down beside Murphy, nor wait around long enough to hear the young healer call for servants and supplies. Lexa sank into her throne to keep watch as the body of the Skaikru boy was swiftly washed. Costia wrapped the white linen shroud herself. The irony of Lexa's lover tending to Clarke's did not escape the young commander, but she shoved it aside. Jealousy had been inescapable. That had not meant she wished this pain upon the skai prisa. While Costia was the soothing comfort for Lexa to rest beside, John Murphy had emerged as iron reinforcement of Clarke's will. He'd seemed to make her stronger, and Lexa gravely prayed that his death would not weaken the Skaikru princess. But at least she lived. The boy's death had been well spent. 

A cart, too slight to be called a carriage, much too reminiscent of bearing Nia to Arkadia, waited, lashed to a horse she'd never seen before, and Miller and Wells carefully loaded Murphy onto the thick bedroll, covering him in the blankets and knotting the ropes, and tarp that had been waiting inside. At least it had high walls, though no roof. 

“I'm going to be riding hard. Anyone who wants to drop back can.” snapped Clarke tightly as she mounted. Caliban swung himself onto his own mount, and the others quickly did so as well. She swung her hand out to take the cart horse's reins from Miller, who handed them over silently. No one dared speak, and in just another breathe, Clarke kicked her horse into a fast trot away from the tower. Titus stood at Lexa's side, watching them leave.

“I know you do not approve of Clarke.” 

The commander's words froze Titus. He did not speak as he knew that she was not finished. Closing his eyes briefly, he waited patiently. 

“The skai prisa... is my valued ally, my confident, my friend.” continued Lexa with her eyes fixed upon him and her dagger spinning on the arm rest of her throne. 

“Will you betray me, Teacher?” asked his beloved student grimly. 

“Heda, never!” 

“Then I would hear your vow. That you shall never act against Clarke.” 

Through the night, and well past dawn, they rode in silence, barely breaking to eat dry rations. They'd had to slow down eventually, though Clarke had kept up a punishing pace as long as she could across the land, and it looked as though as they'd make the journey in record time. 

Day 55, morning, nearing Hundred Camp 

As they grew closer, at a steady walk, giving the horses a breather, Wells drew up beside Clarke. 

“I'll go ahead. Let them know we're coming.” he offered quietly, and she just nodded blankly, her eyes set firmly in front of her. 

Only when he was sure she wouldn't speak, he kicked his own horse into a gallop heading for their camp, quickly outdistancing the slower going mounts. It was already nearing lunchtime, and the camp was loudly in motion as Wells drew up to the gates. Sterling called out, and Atom swung open the gate, Wells throwing himself, panting, from his horse, and yelling for Bellamy. The former guard came from running from the back of the camp, his face a waiting storm. Seeing the chancellor's son standing there, alone, holding the reins of the sweaty horse, Bellamy strode quickly to him, glaring furiously. As soon as he drew close enough, Wells spit out the news hastily. 

“Clarke and the others are on the way, I rode ahead to let you know-” began Wells grimly.

“What happened? Are they OK?” barked the Skaikru leader, and Wells shook his head heavily.

“Murphy's dead. Clarke's bringing him back to bury here. There was a fight in Polis, but the alliance holds. Clarke... Clarke executed the man who killed Murphy herself, but the commander said she'd have done it if not.” explained Wells gravely. 

Bellamy's face hardened up darkly, and he looked around him fiercely. 

“What are you waiting for? Get a grave dug, and get ready for the others to get here!” he bellowed at the surrounding kids. 

He looked back to Wells, who handed his horse off when Monroe appeared silently, and growled angrily. 

“Clarke- is she-” broke off their leader stiffly.

Wells met Bellamy's eyes grimly. 

“She's strong.” reminded the chancellor's son firmly, but then he hesitated. “But how much more can she take? She hasn't spoken since we left Polis.” he wondered grimly. 

At Murphy's grave, Clarke knelt bitterly, eyes dry but face stricken, ignoring the mass of kids that had been herded outside. The tenth grave (unless others died over winter?) 

“In peace may you leave the shore

in love may you find the next

safe passages on your travels, until our final journey on the ground. 

May we meet again.” she murmured thickly, her voice hoarse as she kept herself from screaming instead.

“John Murphy was one of us.” announced Bellamy grimly.

He continued slowly, eyes locked upon Clarke, as she huddled there above Murphy.

“A man who stepped into the path of death to protect our princess. He protected us all because the alliance would not have survived her death. I'd not have stood for it, he damn well wouldn't have, none of us could have. We keep the alliance now in honor of John Murphy's sacrifice! He died a hero, giving up his life for love, and peace, and our people. Honor him by upholding the alliance!” stated Bellamy loudly, and there were murmurs of agreement throughout the assembled hundred. 

Stiffly, Clarke rose, and looked over their people harshly. 

“His death has been avenged, but he will not be forgotten.” she ordered darkly before striding forwards with the crowd parting hastily for her. Only Octavia dared follow as the pale, but hard faced medic rushed into the dropship. 

“Finn, and now Murphy!” cried Clarke brokenly in the darkness of the unlit ship. Octavia just sank down beside her silently. 

“If I fall in love, I might as well kill them and get it over with.” she whispered. 

“I didn't tell him anything like that, but he died anyway.” added the sky princess even quieter after a shameful pause. 

“Maybe it's getting laid more than actually loving them.” suggested Octavia before her head caught up to her mouth. 

Immediately she flushed, though Clarke couldn't have seen it even she'd looked because of the dark. But Clarke just snorted and dissolved into a hysterical laughter. It wasn't long before the laughter turned to sobs. For a moment, Clarke could almost hear Murphy mocking her for her pitiful behavior. 

“Suck it up, princess. Life's a disaster.” he'd have told her, if he could. 

Sniffling, Clarke tried to pull herself together, deciding that she needed to stay busy. She could feel the weight of Octavia's too knowing gaze, but avoided it anyway. 

“There's no time to waste crying like this. Can you get a meeting together-” stated Clarke, ignoring how hoarse her voice sounded even to her own ears. Her friend's short response was offered in a quietly dry tone that made Clarke sure she was fooling no one- least of all, her. 

But Octavia did as asked anyway. Soon she'd gathered up everyone she felt needed to be dragged into the mess. So it wasn't long till Clarke looked them over grimly. They could be called her inner circle, she guessed. It sounded too much like a political... arrangement, rather than the practicality it was to Clarke. Still... that wasn't the point right now. Bellamy, Wells, Nathan, Monty, Jasper, and Raven were all about to hear an unpleasant revelation. Putting it mildly. 

They were watching her with a fairly appropriate level of wariness though. 

Perhaps because she'd instructed Jasper to bring moonshine to the meeting. 

Still, it was a good idea even if it freaked them out. The actual news was going to be so much worse after all. 

“Soo... This is going to be awful, and we're not ready for this news to become public yet.” said Clarke wearily. 

“So shut up and listen.” added Octavia as Jasper opened his mouth. He snapped it yet hastily. 

“There's no nice way to break this.” admitted the blonde leader, running a hand through her hair anxiously. 

“Just spit it out, Princess.” muttered Bellamy darkly. 

She threw him an annoyed glare, but continued anyway. 

“The nuclear reactors around the world were not shut down. A century of neglect means they are melting down, or soon to. We have a few months before this continent is unlivable. There is a bunker that will be shared by all of the clans, and we're looking at around five years in it.” began Clarke. Her words started out low, but grew stronger as she went on...


	15. Days 56-62

Chapter Fifteen 

It wasn't like anyone had felt much like going to sleep directly after learning about a new doomsday. Even with the jug of moonshine to soften the blow, Clarke couldn't find a way to make the news easy to absorb. So they'd stayed up talking, and bickering, and brooding, late into the night, until they'd gradually fallen asleep huddled onto Monty's fur cushions. Bellamy was left the last one standing. Looking over the cramped space, he eyed his sister, curled up in a ball, with Green to one side of her, and the princess on the other. With a sigh, he left her, and the rest of them, where they'd drifted off. There was a watch to check on, and a fire to make sure wasn't neglected, before he could lay down his own head. 

Day 56 

By some mutual agreement, come morning, everyone had slunk down the ladder and out of the dropship as quietly as possible. Eventually Clarke was left alone on the floor, with a cushion under her head, and another behind her back, in place of the now gone Octavia. 

Clarke rushed anxiously into the dropship, dropping into a crouch, to examine the bloody, bruised, and flthy boy huddled on the floor. He looked up warily, and Clarke screamed as Murphy's eyes bled- 

“Hey!” shouted a voice from somewhere behind her. 

She jerked awake frantically, pulling a knife from the jacket she still wore before she could look around as she stumbled up onto her feet. Raven sat, surprised, but unimpressed, at the comms center, eyeing the blonde in return. Huffing out a breathe, Clarke let her shoulders drop, and slowly slid the knife- John's- back into her pocket. 

“Nightmare.” commented the young mechanic dryly, getting only a nod in response before the blonde silently turned on her heel, descending into the lower level to begin the business of living without him. 

Ducking out of her dropship, she saw, in the bright light of mid-morning, Bellamy and Sterling deep in quiet conversation. Just beyond them, watching intently, though silently, Murphy stood. Choking down the scream that threatened to rise, Clarke stumbled backwards through the hangings. Before the limp doorway fell back into place after her, she had just a glimpse of John looking over at her, frowning. She landed awkwardly on the cold floor, gasping miserably. 

Though he hadn't noticed her appearance at first, the flurry of her retreat caught Bellamy's eye. He waved off Sterling abruptly, and strode quickly into the dropship. There on the floor, he found her, wide eyed, and pale. 

“It happened before. With Finn, before. He was everywhere. Just staring at me, until I let him go.” 

“This time?” asked Bellamy quietly. 

Clarke shook her head shakily. 

“I'm sorry, princess.”

“I'm crazy.” said Clarke flatly, as she avoided his sympathetic dark eyes. 

His grave lays just outside the wall, in a graveyard that threatens to consume them all, and so, she remains inside. 

The gate became her Rubicon. The die would be cast once she crossed it- to work with the grounders anyway, or to find their own way to salvation. With this much time to prepare, could they find a way to make the Go-Sci Ring livable for so many of them? With Raven, and Wick, both working on it? The pair was already considering it, along with Monty. No one wanted to combine efforts with Arkadia, yet it was technically an option... Perhaps they would have to split their number up- send some to the Ring, the ones that were willing to Arkadia, the Lighthouse bunker for a few of them... It wouldn't be enough. 

For now, she lingered within the wall, unwilling to decide, to set their fate in motion again. It was awful enough to look around, and find every face turned towards her- awaiting her decision. Bellamy, setting his jaw obstinately, ready to defy everyone for any half-decent reason, Octavia, bitterly weary, remembering being forced to work with Lincoln's murderers. Raven, Wick, Monty, and Jasper, absolutely overwhelmed by the horrific revelation, but ready to get to work- she just had to tell what to work at. 

There was no way to know- had Gustus plotted treachery on his own once again, or had the idea been whispered to him by another? It was so sudden, so shockingly unforeseen... In this life, Gustus had hardly even looked at her, before he tried to kill her? Or had he been counting on Murphy, at her side, to do just as he'd done? 

“Just another day on the ground, right?” whispered the quiet voice in her ear. 

If she'd died, there would have been war. If she'd been the one to bleed out on Lexa's floor, Murphy at least would've been out for blood. Octavia might have been too, but in the end, she'd come around, looking to greater good. Not even Octavia and Lexa together could have contained the fire if it had time to really get started. Everyone of the hundred would have been wiped out, most likely. Arkadia would have been dragged down into it eventually, grudgingly. It would have bee the end of the Sky people. Yet Lexa would have marched on, saving twelve hundred of her people, at least, if they managed to run the bunker themselves. They were smart, and they'd be desperate, so maybe. But unlikely. Had the fate of humanity hung in the balance in that moment? One life for the many? 

Was it worth it? Could she have traded John, not the boy who'd caused such fear and misery, but the one who'd kept her warm, for the rest of the world? 

It couldn't matter. There was no proof, and even if there was... She knew what she must do- she couldn't let her heart make the decisions. But for now, she'd let her heart hold the grudge. There was time enough for that, if she was selfish enough to make it so. Polis could wait. Lexa could wait. How to mourn a boy who'd died for in her place, a boy who hadn't loved her, but instead cast his soul out for her... Clarke didn't know. There might be time to hold a grudge, but there was no time to sit and cry for him. The dead are gone, and the living are hungry. That she could not ignore. So she rose, she worked, she did what needed to be done, in their home, within their own walls. This, she thought, exhausting herself from before dawn to long after dusk from everything from cleaning game with the camp crew to brewing tinctures under Monty's guidance, this would have to do. It was the only way she'd ever known to grieve. Those long months that first time in Skybox, when she'd been alone, trapped, in the depth of her own grief, had been the most passive torture she could imagine. 

As long as she is awake, she can stay busy enough to not sink into the depths. At night, no matter how tried she made herself, she dreamed of him- not only the John she'd known in this life, but before, the one who'd been first her bitter enemy, and eventually a resentful ally. So often she saw him again, at his worst. With a necklace of bruises, or with his fingernails pried off, screaming in fury, or cringing miserably... She felt his hands roughly on her, with a knife to her throat, so much more than she ever dreamed of the cautious, slow touches from this life. In the depth of her dreams, she watched him swing from a rope again, and no matter how many times she swung at it, it wouldn't release him. 

She only half-wakes from it, crying, but still lost in the memories. 

Charlotte curls up closer to her, not knowing what else to do, and Octavia shakes Clarke just enough to bring her from the dream, but not quite from sleep all the way. It should be John next to her on the hard ground hardly softened by the pile of blankets, furs and moss. 

This is life without John Murphy. 

There is no one she trusts in quite the same way- to cast his soul into the abyss on her word. 

Don't worry about it, I'm with you. 

Bellamy, too unpredictable, even as well as she believed to know him. Octavia, working on a moral compass not only greater but fundamentally... shifted apart from Clarke's own. Lexa, eyes too fixed upon her own fate. Charlotte, painfully loyal, but whom Clarke knew could break so easily. Monty, Nathan, Wells... She trusts them all in different ways, for different things, and they were all important... yet... 

Need a selfish bastard, I'm your man. 

She needed a selfish man sometimes. 

There had never been a moment in either life more than that one where she should have been defied. But John wanted to survive, and he'd trusted her enough to cast his soul alongside hers. Bellamy would have killed him for that then if he'd had the chance. Octavia damn sure would have. Murphy had risked a knife in the back from their own people, for standing with her then. 

She took him for granted. 

The boy who'd survived until the very end, whose death she did not live long enough to know of, who might, despite Octavia's belief, had even outlived them both. 

Clarke hadn't even really considered much the thought of him actually dying. 

Leaving her for Emori? Yes, she considered it fate. He'd loved Emori. How could she have ever expected him to choice her over the grounder girl who'd made Clarke see John in a different light to begin with? Clarke had been prepared to let him go once his path crossed with that girl. Even to the point of trying to find the very girl she'd be left for to make sure she survived Praimfaya. But he'd been too cunning, too self-serving, and too stubborn in their life before, for Clarke to ever imagine he'd die- much less for her. Perhaps, it would not have surprised her so much if he'd died for Emori. 

His only ambition had been to survive, and yet, for Clarke... 

Dreaming of his pain whenever she slept, seeing him around each corner when awake, she drifted. When a couple dozen of the camp packed up for a long day and set off towards Anya's village at dawn, Clarke had remained stubbornly in her pallet, ignoring Octavia and Charlotte's departure. Each day blurred with the one before it as she struggled to remember which events belonged to this lifetime, and so it was with surprise, that Clarke found herself being handed a rough metal cup of moonshine to celebrate their 60th day on Earth. That wasn't cause for celebration alone, but the cabin's roof, the worst part of the building, had been finished finally, this afternoon, apparently. 

Around the fire that night 

“He never got trapped in a bunker alone for months. He never got hung. Never got banished. In this lifetime, he was the princess' other half, and in this life, he died a hero.”

Octavia's point trailed off as both girls sunk into remembering the many miseries, and sins, of John Murphy, in another life. They sank into silence, watching the revelry around them. Thanks to Monty and Jasper both staying occupied with numerous projects Clarke and Octavia thought up, they didn't brew their moonshine nearly as much, and so it was much more exciting this time around. The camp came to life against the dark sky and thriving fire, ringing with high spirits. 

“Huh.” muttered Octavia. 

“That's new.” agreed Clarke slowly. 

The girls didn't realize they were titling their heads in unison, as if trying to decide if Bellamy and Monroe's flirting, just beyond the fire opposite them, looked any less weird from that angle. It didn't seem to help. Normally stubbornly reserved, Monroe was grinning up at him even as she playfully pushed Bellamy away. The elder Blake simply snickered at the girl though, pressing a sudden kiss on her anyway, her cheeks flushing brightly in response. 

“Where the hell is Harper, or Fox?” asked the younger Blake. 

“Jasper's good for gossip too.” commented Clarke absently. 

None of that lot seemed to be around, but when Octavia spotted Raven, she waved the mechanic over instead, with Wick cheerfully following along. 

“So! My brother and Monroe- what the hell?” ventured the younger brunette as soon as Raven had settled down beside her. 

With a shrug, Raven smirked at Octavia, but then looked away, towards where Bellamy was still teasing the petite gunner quietly. 

“Oh, yea. They've been chatting it up for a while.” offered Wick pleasantly, from the other side of Raven, grinning in amusement when Octavia snorted. 

“Any other news I've missed?” asked the young ambassador dryly, eyes flicking back and forth from her smirking brother, to Wick's cheerful countenance beside Raven. 

“Oh, well- “ launched the boisterous engineer eagerly, despite the girl between them letting out a long, low groan. 

“So Monroe and Bellamy, Harper and Monty, Fox and Sterling... That's... odd.” mused Octavia, once Wick's supply of gossip finally seemed to run out. 

“Harper and Monty isn't surprising.” said Clarke pointedly. 

“But the others are.” replied Octavia. 

Clarke muttered an absent minded agreement.

“Things have been... calm, around here, so I guess everyone's got time to eye up the options.” mused Octavia thoughtfully. 

With her eyes fixed upon Murphy, leaning against the door frame of the cabin, Clarke ignored the fire, and their friends, perhaps waiting, as they assumed, for everyone to retire to the cabin for the first time. Mostly though, she watched him gaze back at her, so intently that she didn't even notice her once-best friend drop down beside her. 

“I don't have to go with them.” offered Wells, touching her arm gently to get her attention. 

Not even looking at him, eyes still on the cabin, she grunted out “Yea, you do.” 

They celebrated their 60th day on Earth, with their own building, not a day too soon, as winter had settled in heavily as mid-November hit. With Raven and Wick's help, the building crew at least had finally managed to get one large one-room log cabin standing. It was.... crude, to put it mildly. There were no windows, the walls had sheets of animal skins nailed into them to block the drafts that slipped through, and the disaster of a roof still leaked, but they were at least mostly certain it wasn't just going to fall down. Stopping the leaking was now the chief concern. It was a dirt floor, and both doors, one on either end, didn't fit perfectly into the frames, which titled some anyway. But they'd managed to craft massive bolts to lock the doors from the inside, at least. As soon as the leaking was under control, they were going to have people move in there because the tents weren't enough for winter. The dropship crew, (Clarke, Bellamy, Raven, Wick, Monty, Jasper, and Charlotte) and a few others- chiefly Bryan, Atom, Sterling, Myles, Monroe, Harper, and Fox, were going to move into the dropship however, as the cabin was going to be very tight fitting. There would be enough room for everyone to lay down, but barely. 

People talked about building more of them, but Clarke carefully put them off- they just needed to get through this one winter, not that she'd told them that yet. Furs, both what they'd managed themselves, and the nicer ones from Trikru were really all that was keeping them from misery. Clarke drifted. Not really acknowledging the changing season, or the looming disaster. In the mundane chores of everyday survival, she buried herself. 

 

Day 61 

Before she mounted the waiting horse, Octavia reached out swiftly, grabbing hold of her brother's jacket and hauling him close to her- half to embrace him, but also to whisper into his ear. When they broke out, Bellamy slowly, regretfully, he nodded. With a shared glance back at the dropship, Octavia sighed. Then she was swinging up, and gone in another moment, without hesitation, Wells and Nathan kicking off to follow her only a couple heartbeats later. 

The quiet of the med bay weighed down heavily upon them. Bellamy had come looking for her, to see if she was really ok after Octavia left with Miller and Jaha. Having found her, though, sitting on the floor, staring into space, he didn't really know what to do about it. 

When they'd landed, she'd been just as slim as the rest of the delinquents. They weren't starved in Skybox, but they were never actually allowed to fill their stomachs. On Earth, it was much the same, as they tried to save for winter. The only kids who had any weight to spare had been those not only recently locked up, but from decently well off standing to begin with. Probably, Clarke had gone into Skybox perfectly healthy, but fourteen months on low rations, had thinned her down a bit to begin with. Now she looked even thinner once again. It hadn't even been three weeks yet, Bellamy was fairly certain. Even with a belt, her pants were hanging awkwardly low on her hips, gathered at the waist, but not enough to disguise the fact that she ate only what was required to keep her alive. The circles under her eyes had bloomed within only a couple nights. Now they were horrid purple, more like she'd been hit than merely sleepless. Her soft mouth even seemed less- compressed tightly into a line, or frowning grimly. Worst of all though was her eyes themselves, shadowed and far away, like she was still looking for her sarcastic, bitter shadow. 

He sat down beside her, letting her ignore him a moment longer, as he tried to figure out what to say. 

“Only the good die young.” murmured Bellamy soothingly. 

Clarke fought the urge that welled up swiftly within her- to claw his eyes out for that stupidity. 

“Bullshit.” hissed Clarke.

It wasn't Bellamy she hated, though it shone in her eyes, such molten blue fire. 

“John was a selfish bastard. He was supposed to outlive us all.” snarled Clarke into the silence between them. 

“He was a good guy.”

“Murphy was the guy who shot Raven. The one responsible for her living in pain, for succumbing to Alie, who made her want to die rather than continue to suffer. He held a knife to my throat until Charlotte killed herself. He hung you in this ship. He let Finn kill innocent people while they looked for me.” 

“In another life. In this life, he was just the guy who loved you enough to die for you.” reminded Bellamy. 

“Does dying actually redeem you? He broke a kid's nose in Polis a few hours before he died.”

“Was there a good reason?”

“No. Just being possessive.”

Yes. Maybe. He'd thought so, at least. 

The memory flashed- a boy, a couple years younger than her easily, but tall and strong in that way of boys on Earth, his face still boyish, surely not more than fifteen, grabbing her wrist, but Murphy's paranoia faster than the kid's plotting. A broken, bleeding nose the only thing she noticed of his face before he ran. He'd seen an easy target and made an attempt- he wasn't looking for a fight. Except they'd been in a crowd, and surely, he hadn't thought he could get her out of it unnoticed. Probably, whatever his intention had been, wasn't as bad as what Murphy had assumed. 

“Pretty big difference between murder and a broken nose.” 

She scoffed, but let it go. 

“Last time... how...” ventured Bellamy hesitantly. 

“He was on the shuttle with you. Raven, Monty, Harper, Emori, and Echo too. The only ones we don't know the fates of. The ones who may have survived.” explained Clarke dully, slumping back against the wall. 

“O says this wouldn't have happened unless everyone died.” reminded the one-time rebel leader. 

She shrugged indifferently. “Yea, but we don't actually know that. None of you remember. If Emori did, she would have come looking for John. Echo.. who knows what she'd do, but she hasn't done anything unexpected so we can rule her out.” 

In a way, it was... almost nice to work with the cold gaze of John's eyes on her again. Familiar, even if this was such a pale comparison to the living John Murphy, whose petty sulks could fill a room with their intensity, much less his actual fury. Her hands were steady, despite the cold, and she tried not to blame him for the chill that seemed to settle over her whenever she saw him again. Sometimes, if she stayed very still, silent, and waited, she could hear him, almost as if he was just there next to her. 

“Damned princess, wasting time on a dead man.” 

If she waited long enough, as the night dragged on into the threatening of the dawn, if she worked through the days, and waited through the nights, she could almost feel his arms around her again. 

Day 62

“Messengers at the gate!” yelled Monroe, summoning a weary Clarke to slowly cross the camp, arriving at the gate several moments behind Bellamy, who'd already ordered it open. 

A row of boys Clarke recognized as some of the youngest guards in Polis, headed by a grounder she knew was called Branch, were unloading packs from half a dozen horses, silently. It reminded Skaikru instantly of the delivery after they'd became the 13th clan. Yet then, they'd celebrated it, now, they couldn't forget that the grounders had just killed one of their own. 

“A message from Heda.” announced Branch solemnly, only after the horses were unloaded, with all of Skaikru watching from behind Clarke and Bellamy. 

Bellamy nodded stiffly in acknowledgment. 

“Heda vows that Skaikru is welcomed, and will be safe, within Polis, equal to each of the other clans of the coalition.” 

Biting her lip, Clarke frowned deeply, trying to keep from speaking... It was up to Bellamy to gruffly send the guards away. 

There were more clothes piled up there, as they went through it untying the bundles, than Clarke had ever seen in one place before. Really, it was just sturdy pieces, both warrior and civilian attire in an entire range of sizes, nothing special, but to kids who'd come down with only what they wore, it was amazing. Grounder clothes were nothing like Ark-issue anyway, making it seem unusual and interesting anyway. There were cloaks, pants, and shirts, and even underwear, belts, boots, ties Clarke knew were meant for hair, easily two hundred outfits. Enough for all of her people to have two changes of clothes apiece out of it. Then there were carrying bags, of all sizes and shapes, some leather, others a stiff cloth, enough for everyone to have at least one, Clarke was sure. It wasn't only clothes though. There was easily two dozen bows, of varying lengths and thickness, and maybe four dozen swords and spears each. Enough for all of Skaikru to have a weapon, with extras. There were dozens of sheathed knives from two inch healer blades to eight inch crooked daggers. The quality was so far above the weapons they'd crafted themselves it was almost amusing. Like they'd been playing with toys, and now were given the real thing. 

“Blood money.” said Clarke quietly, before the grounders were even out of sight. 

Bellamy's head snapped up from where he'd been eyeing the loot. He looked at her with wide, horrified eyes. 

“We can send it back. Or just throw it away. Whatever you want. Screw them. We'll figure it out on our own.” insisted Bellamy firmly, his eyes promising he meant what he offered. 

With her own blue, haunted eyes set upon the piles of Lexa's grimly inadequate apology, Clarke considered his words.


	16. chapter sixteen

Chapter Sixteen 

There was no other way. 

The Ring and the lighthouse would only hold a minor fraction of her people. The Ark would likely only take a handful at best- the most useful, and best connected. Most of Skaikru would die even if they managed all three options. That she could not allow. Before, she had buried her fury over Finn's death under duty to the living, and now she would do the same with John's. She'd move past it, because she had to. 

Returning the supplies wasn't really an option either, no matter Bellamy's offer. The Ark had sent them down with nothing, and clothes, even more than the weapons, were desperately needed. Even if it was resentfully amusing to imagine the look on Lexa's face if she was told her gift had been rejected. The weapons were mostly placed into the dropship, but a few carefully stocked in the cabin for easier access. Distributing the rest of the loot, fairly and logically, is put on Jasper's shoulders. He takes to it with a cheerful dedication, making sure that no one is neglected, so Clarke can ignore the situation. When she pushed aside the backstory, it was actually comforting to see the delinquents dressed more as grounders than Arkadians. The sight fanned the hope that maybe they'd all be able to understand each other. Someday. 

A couple dozen of them go to Anya's village every four days. Clarke walks with them, but her mind is far away, seeing him wherever she goes. The grounders feed them on these days, and Clarke knows the seasoned, well-prepared fare at least half the lure that draws the delinquents back each time to have their asses handed to them in the merciless combat training. With all the deaths, absences, and injuries, everyone's stretching themselves thinner, trying to keep up. 

Days pass, and Clarke is ceaseless, working from dawn till long after dusk. Always in her sight, there is the ghost of John Murphy, silent, but watchful. 

She doesn't even try to send him away. 

Somewhere inside, she knows all she'd have to do is remind herself that love is weakness. She won't. If she could do it all over again, she'd let Finn haunt her too. At least a little while longer. 

Day 74 

Hundred Camp 

“Zoe said I could go out with her group if it's ok with you.” announced Charlotte hopefully, breaking the silence of the dropship as she entered eagerly. 

Clarke looked up from her notebook. It was nearly full. Inside there were notes covering everything she could think of from gunshots to infectious disease care, and it wasn't nearly enough. She'd already asked Jasper to start figuring out a solution to paper and writing utensils for them. The younger boy had gaped at her, but soon enough she'd overheard him muttering with Bellamy and Monty about Egyptians and Greeks, and papyrus, and well, there seemed to be a hope there. 

Zoe Monroe's hunting party consisted of Fox, Harper, Myles and Sterling, and was the best Skaikru had. They were also all people that could be trusted with Charlotte. Myles was sweet, and Sterling was brave, and the trio of girls were utterly steadfast- they'd stayed with their people until each of their ends. 

“Alright. Make sure to keep your face covered, and stay close to them.” agreed Clarke slowly.

Charlotte nodded, only slightly impatiently. It was standard orders, and Charlotte rushed into the upper level after a bow and quiver, already draped in a heavy fur. 

Wearily Clarke got up to see them off, following Charlotte from the dropship, and to the gate. There Monroe and Sterling already waited. They both with rifles slung over their shoulders to the front, and their game bags, from Trikru, over their backs. Soon enough Harper, Myles, and Fox arrived, chattering happily at the chance to get out of camp, all carrying bows, with the quivers of arrows slung on their shoulders as well. Winter is here, no more denying it, and everyone's bundled up in a mix of Ark-issue jackets and furs, trying to stave off the icy wind. 

“Be careful, guys. Remember to head away from Mt. Weather.” reminded Clarke, and Monroe nodded with a smirk. 

“Always.” assured the hunting leader firmly before the gate swung open for them. 

Late Afternoon 

The day had passed normally, busily, just another day, but they should be back by now. 

Monroe, Harper, Fox, Myles, Sterling, Charlotte. 

They should be back by now. 

They're not. 

They'd gone out just after lunch, and now the sun was threatening to set on camp without them. 

Bellamy locked eyes with her, and she could read his thoughts. His dark, grim eyes told her immediately they were echoing with the same words as her own. 

“I'm going out to look for our people.” announced Clarke suddenly, her eyes breaking away from Bellamy's. 

“I want a group ready to go by the gate in five.” agreed her partner curtly. 

They shared a quick glance again before Clarke turned on her heel to stalk off hastily into the dropship. 

With a pack thrown onto her back, and a gun at ready, she paused mid-step on the dropship when she saw there were more than two dozen kids huddled up near the gate, with Bellamy. They'd relieved the current watch crew of their guns, but they were way more than five kids there. 

“We're going to need more weapons, Princess.” called Bellamy. Even as grim as he was, there was a definite note of... pride, in his voice. He nudged Bryan, then Atom, who then jogged over to the dropship, and followed Clarke when she turned around to fetch more. 

“How many are there?” she asked curiously as they climbed up to the upper level.

“Twenty-six, plus you.” replied the former Arkadian quickly. 

Once Clarke, Bryan, and Atom had handed out the weapons- mainly guns, but a few kids, who hadn't been trained with the guns, were given spears instead. Clarke also had a sword tied at her waist. 

“Cover your faces! If they were taken by Mt. Weather, we can't let the same thing happen to us. Eyes open, stay quiet. We're going out in small groups each taking a different direction.” 

Well past dark 

With Monty and Bellamy on either side of her, Monty keeping an eye out for Mountain Men, Bellamy at ready with his rifle, and Clarke actually searching any sign of their people, they kept marching through the darkening forest. Longer than they knew was smart, well after their pace had slowed due to the darkness, they kept at it until Bellamy had grudgingly announced it was time to call it a night. Clarke's back stiffened up to argue, but she paused just long enough to realize how long ago it must have been that they were supposed to be back with the other search parties. With a resentful sigh, she turned without a word and lead them back. Waiting at the gate already, everyone else had regrouped.   
No one even needed to ask- their expressions spoke clearly of failure. 

“Any sign at all?” asked Bellamy tiredly. 

All around the huddled, weary circle, heads shook in negative. 

“Then it was the Mountain Men. Six people don't just vanish unless they were taken.” muttered Clarke grimly. 

“It could've been the grounders.” pointed out one of the boys, a friend of Sterling's, Clarke was almost sure. 

“The grounders are our allies. Even if it had been them, they would've killed them on the spot and left the evidence for us to be hurt by.” snapped their leader curtly. 

“The grounders wouldn't waste goods on people they're about to start picking off.” grunted Bellamy, hard gaze fixed upon the lone dissident. Only once the boy had lowered his head, did the elder of their leaders let up. 

“Get some sleep. We'll figure out a plan for tomorrow.” said Bellamy to the group at large as they shuffled their feet tiredly. 

With obvious relief, the couple dozen delinquents hurried in, none quite shoving the others of the way, but their nerves at being outside of the wall still too obvious. 

“Bellamy, Monty, Raven... Wick. We need to talk.” announced Clarke as they trudged through the gate wearily. 

With the icy memory of Murphy at her shoulder, catching sight of him from the corner of her eye, Clarke announced her plan. 

“We can't let anymore of our people die. I won't. Not on my watch.” 

No one says their names. Twenty-six dead. Dante's words from a lifetime away echoed- she understood him now, just as she had then. There was something so... familiar in his dedication to his own people. It was selfish, Clarke knew, to set her people above others. But it endured anyway. 

“We'll get them back. At any means necessary.” agreed Bellamy grimly. 

The look on Bellamy's face as he teased Zoe welled up in Clarke's mind. His devastation over Gina, and Zoe too, when she'd died in the time before. The memories stiffened her resolve even more. 

“The mountain men never developed resistance to radiation. That's why they kidnap those who did- us and the grounders. To experiment on. To drain. To heal themselves at the cost of other's lives. This is their weakness-” explained the blonde flatly. 

Bluntly, her tone hard and her shoulders stiff, Clarke told them about the turbines. 

“I can do it.” announced Raven firmly, her flashing, so they could almost see her mind whirling around the steps of what was needed. 

The young mechanic had rebuilt a pod with only her brain and stubbornness. She threw herself through space. He wouldn't do anything less, decided Wick painfully. 

Shut down a heavily populated bunker to save a handful of her friends? 

In a tight huddle, locked away into a planning center that was really just a drop ship, they whispered of things worthy dying for, of salvation at means necessary, of their people, of duty. Of the twelve year old girl, just a kid, that had been taken along with their hunting party. It wasn't needed to convince him. Her eyes, dark, and shining, sought him... and he knew he'd do whatever it took.

“Yea. Yea. We can pull it off.” said Kyle, his voice hoarse with the implications, but nodded firmly anyway, eyes fixed on Raven. 

With her to compare himself to, he couldn't do anything less. He wasn't even going to ask how Griffin knew so much about the bunker. In the end, did that even matter? 

Bellamy shifted his weight restlessly, watching the blonde girl at his side, though he nodded in acknowledgment of Wick. 

“We need more hands.” said the elder of the pair of leaders bluntly. 

She scowled up at him. “If I didn't need someone to work the command center, I wouldn't be bringing any of you.” 

“These three are the brains we need, but if we don't have enough guards covering their backs, we'll never get it done.” pointed out Bellamy. 

“So we take who we can trust.” interjected Raven. 

“Whomever goes has to be able to live with... whatever we have to do. Most of the people I trust are already here, or in the mountain. It would take three days to get the others from Polis and rest up for this. We can't wait that long. Even though we will give them the option of a truce, it's probably going to come down to them, or us.” countered his partner grimly, eyeing the group around them instead. 

“Jas-” began Monty 

“No.” interrupted Clarke hastily. 

She ducked her head away, glancing instead to Bellamy, who cleared his throat. 

“He'll be in charge of camp while we're away.” said the dark haired former guard after a long moment, as Monty eyed Clarke curiously. 

“Bryan... and Atom.” conceded Clarke. 

It sounded like a war talk.

Guns and swords and armor made of leather and iron. 

Weak points, defenses, and no survivors.

It is, Wick realizes with his heart in his throat, a war talk. 

Listening to them, as they go back and forth in sharp, hushed words, he realizes something else. A shiver runs along his spine, he flinches but can't ignore it. Clarke Griffin, the rebel princess, because Wick isn't sure that Miss Griffin of Alpha Station even exists except in memory anymore, is not just the voice of a generation, as he already knew, but the voice of an era. For all of Jaha's talk about being the one upon whose watch they returned to Earth, a century early, it's this cold eyed, fierce kid that's going to be what saves them, or not. Wick can't help watching her as she outlines a plan to kill four hundred people in a few quick, vicious moves, without hesitation. 

He remembers her as a smiling, bright eyed kid, only a couple years ago, darting through the Ring looking for her dad, and he doesn't recognize her. 

But Jake Griffin was a good guy. Raven might say Wick's an idiot, and everyone else might think he's oblivious goof off... but he's not so dumb to not take note when his boss was floated for treason. Oblivious goof offs don't get floated for treason, unlike determined, high-minded geniuses, right? He's safe. As long as he says nothing.

Before he listened to her explain his part in mass murder-style rescue party, he never believed that Miss Clarke Griffin, the would-be doctor, was anything but an innocent bystander in whatever happened between the chancellor and the chief of engineering. But now... now Wick wonders. This Clarke makes him think she could easily have been an equal conspirator of treason alongside her father. Still Jake Griffin was a good guy, and treason is defined by the powers that be, not the people. Abby Griffin's a bit of a tyrant, but Wick's beginning to think this girl is just her father's daughter. Abby would have said a tearful eulogy for the kids in that mountain without bothering to know if they were even dead yet. Jake Griffin, Wick guesses, would have been in his daughter's place, doing whatever it took to save their people. It would have been nice to get to know Miss Griffin, the smiling kid. This young leader is someone to be proud to know though. 

 

Day 76 ( three weeks since Murphy's burial) 

Outside Clarke and Bellamy stand on either side of the dropship ramp, as Jasper stands in the doorway, together watching the last of their people file in. Near the dead fire, Raven is standing tall, with Wick, Monty, Bryan, and Atom all looking less assured than her. A pile of weapons and furs are waiting by the gate. 

“Remember, if we are not back by an hour before sunset, go to Anya.” reiterated Clarke firmly, eyes sweeping across the skaikru, huddled in the first level of the dropship warily. They're armed for war, but Clarke knows the mountain men could take them out. She's risking it all, every last one of her people, for this. 

“Don't leave the dropship for anything till then. Nothing.” orders Bellamy harshly, eyes locked solely upon Jasper, ignoring the rest. 

“Jasper's in charge till we get back.” reminded Clarke yet again, watching Bellamy. 

“We've got it.” assures Jasper brightly, despite the anxiety in his eyes. He's never been left in charge of the camp before, and now... 

With a final nod from Clarke, he steps back, and waves as cheerfully as he can muster, before raising up the ramp. It groans into place, with a heavy thud announcing it's completion. Standing at the lever still, Jasper eyes the now closed door silently. There are seventy-eight members of Skaikru left alive, and fifty-seven of them are in his charge right now. Four more should be returning soon, hopefully, from bringing a message to the grounder village. It'd almost be less scary to be one of the heroes breaking into a military bunker. Swallowing down his doubts, Jasper turns to face the rest of the delinquents. All they need to do is wait. 

As they dressed for the journey, heavy furs and semi-autos, Bellamy wondered, too often for his comfort, just who this blonde terror was. Why he felt so pulled into her. The things that they'd once lived through side-by-side, it didn't look like he'd ever remember. But he knew enough at least to be sure that between her own heart and the needs of her people, what would win every time. 

So Bellamy followed her into hell. 

They marched through the forest dressed in the spoils from John's death. 

His sister said he'd done it before. 

Perhaps he could remember just a touch of it because it felt so just.

Yet he watched her warily, the only one to notice just how her sky eyes flicked to the side sometimes, the way she gazed so painfully at things no one else could see. 

John Murphy had just been another stubborn kid. A ready gun at her back while she walked among the grounders, though, he'd welcomed. With a dead Ark guard to his name, at least Bellamy knew the kid wasn't joking around about protecting her. Even if Bellamy hadn't seen what she saw him in. The princess could have her pick of any of man on Earth, quite literally, so why'd she'd gone for a scowling, scrawny Factory kid... it made no sense. 

It didn't make it any less.. wrenching that the ghost of the boy still hung around her, even now. Guarding her even in death, it seemed. Not that Bellamy believed in ghosts, or afterlives. The princess' just wasn't ready to let go. So he told himself, pressing down any uncertainty, considering the sheer impossibility of their lives. If.... time travel was possible, then maybe it is really is the ghost of John Murphy hovering just as doggedly around the princess as he had in life. With a groan, Bellamy shoves that idea harshly out of his head. That kind of stuff would drive him crazy if he lets it. 

Talking tech with Wick, and Raven. 

Learning at Charlotte, and Clarke's side about healing on Earth. 

Teaching them everything he could pass on. 

Doing whatever he could to make this new life of theirs more... comfortable. 

This is what he was good at. 

With a rifle in his hands, gripped tight, striding as confidently as he could manage, Monty Green wondered what he was doing. This wasn't who he was. He would've been an engineering, if not for a stupid mistake, and falling to Earth. He could've been an Argo worker. He could've been a doctor. But he was never going to be a guard. Never could've passed for a soldier. Clarke didn't question that though. She handed him a gun, just as she did with her watchers, and asked if he was ready to go. How could he disappoint her? Let down the girl that had been fighting for their hope since the day they fell from home? If only he thought he could actually live up to the trust she had. Whatever she thought that made her nudge him into step with her, he'd try not to let her down. Let them all down. Lives hanging in the balance was never something he'd considered being his responsibility. Whatever she asked, he'd do it. He'd try to, at least. They wanted the same thing after all- their people to be ok. 

Harper is in that bunker. Sweet, and fierce, amazing, Harper, who, like Clarke, saw more to him than just the geek from Argo. Maybe Blake was right. There were things, people, worth dying for. 

“Earth is so beautiful.” whispered Monty, soft enough for only Clarke, at his side, to hear. She nods, without looking at him, her blue eyes fixed straight ahead. The quiet boy doesn't need to see them to know how tormented they look. 

Really, Monty, Raven, and Wick were all she needed. Still Bellamy came leading Bryan and Atom too. They strode through the forest steadily. With even breathes, and hardened eyes, they all knew what they were about to do. Clarke marveled at their agreement with her horrid plan. The blue sky was so beautiful, bright sunlight streaming through the trees, even the icy air seemed crisp and perfect. Together they approached the mountain, all bundled heavily in furs, and faces covered. Only their rifles giving away that they are not grounders. 

“Kill the many to spare the few.” muses Wick painfully. He's doing it, and he knows why he's doing it, but he can't call it right. 

As they go through the trees, gratefulness to Caliban, and Anya, for the relative quietness of her people's steps through the forest now. In the lifetime before, they'd never truly ever be able to move this stealthily. 

Flinging one hand up to halt the others, Clarke takes a steadying breathe in deeply, and lets it out slowly. 

On the exhale, her finger pulls the trigger. 

Directly in her line of sight, a mountain man, a guard in his haz mat suit, falls. 

Wick curses under his breathe, and Bellamy unnecessarily mutters “one”. 

“381 left.” whispers Clarke in reply. 

A shudder rips through them all, but when Clarke steps forward, they follow. 

It's Atom who sees the next mountain man first, who obviously sighted the group before they knew what had happened, and Clarke remembers that there are multiple doors to the bunker. Atom spins away from the group to face him just as a bullet grazes him. 

Atom groans, long and agonized, trying to raise his rifle, but Clarke shoves him aside, launching herself at the guard instead of using the gun in her hand. In another heartbeat, she claws the helmet off the guard, tossing it away behind her, and the mountain man freezes, eyes locked on the girl in front of him. 

The lesions began to bloom in another heartbeat, and the group stills to watch him die. 

He starts screaming just as his skin flushes into a agonizing red. At her feet, he falls, and she watches him silently. 

“Two.” murmurs Bellamy quietly. 

It takes only seconds for him to be officially no longer a threat, but still, he's gasping and moaning. Clarke looks back at her people. 

“Saves on bullets.” explained the leader bluntly before she kneels at Atom's side, her hands quickly in motion. 

At her explanation, Wick swallows heavily, thinking it was more rage and adrenaline that sent the girl flying at the guard, not frugality, but doesn't dare say it. 

The moment Atom's patched up, a snug bandage made of someone's shirt, over a thick red paste, they continue on towards the dam. 

This is different, Clarke knows. She did not approach Mount Weather in the lifetime before with the intent of irradiating every last man, woman, and child. This time she is well aware long before she reaches the mountain what it may, what it most likely will, come to. Last time it was murder, and this time it's even premeditated. Somehow it feels like an even greater stain upon her already drenched soul.

380 left.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen 

Day 76 

Mount Weather

Shaking hands were the only thing to give away Raven's nerves. With his eyes unwilling to meet anyone else's, Wick was ashen as they worked. Both refused to break under the weight. 

Numb to the cold and their own horror, as they watched the sabotage Bellamy and Clarke stood so close that they should be able to feel each other's warmth. Hoarsely, hardly above a whisper, Clarke recited the traveler's blessing for the children, and civilians of the Mountain. Huddled close around their leaders, the others fought the instinctive urge to bow their heads in respect as she spoke. Somewhere on level five, Maya Vie was awaiting death- once again. This time she wouldn't even understand why. 

None of us is innocent. 

Maya's words came to Clarke from another life. The brave Mountain girl had used her dying breathe to say those damning words; Clarke could not ignore them. Children of a parasitic race might not be innocent, but only the sins of the fathers stained them. 

The turbines blew. 

Perfectly as planned. It's easier this time. She knows just what to do. 

It's Myles this time, rather than Fox, that they watch slid down into a cart, as they creep as quietly as they can through the tunnels. 

Clarke was wrong, she realizes. It's not easier, actually. She bits her lip to keep from howling her denial of the puppy-ish, sweet boy that's been dumped to await the Reapers. 

“He was only fifteen.” announced Monty thickly. 

It's twice now that she's failed to save this kid. Behind her, Atom gags faintly, and Bellamy bloodies his knuckles when his fist lands against the tunnel's rock wall. Somewhere even further back, staying far from the cart, Raven is swearing about giving them a far harsher death than radiation, but she doesn't know yet how awful the irradiation is going to be. With deep, even breathes, Clarke ignores them, and closes Myles' blue eyes gently before leading them away. If they succeed, they can bury him at home. Failure will mean eventually joining him here in the Reapers' feeding bin. 

They have no communication to the inside this time, and Clarke had refused to even voice the idea of sending someone to infiltrate. 

When they get to the door, they all watch and fidget as Raven prepares the bomb directly in front of it. 

“Alright, move your asses back.” she ordered bluntly, but they're all armed and someone's got to be close enough to take the shot, and there's confusion because the mechanic's not one to order people about really. 

“All of you- move!” snaps Bellamy impatiently, and the group began to shuffle back, eyes still darting between him and Raven's deceptively small creation. 

“I'll do it.” said Clarke, not retreating from the bunker's door.

Bellamy shook his head gruffly as he stood holding his ground just beside the waiting disaster. 

“No, really, I can do it.” insisted the blonde, locking her eyes upon his, and stiffly holding her ground with equal determination. 

Even Raven frowned, but allowed Wick to tug her back up the path they'd came, out of range. Her weapon was small, just enough to break the door, but not enough to cave in the roof or walls. They hoped. He kept tugging at her to follow Monty, Atom, and Bryan, all quickly scurrying as far as they get from the risk. She'd ran the estimates of force, and size and everything else, but really it was mostly a guessing game where their lives were in her hands. A second, more powerful, more risky, version waited, hidden in the forest, to try bringing down the main door if this failed. That one, though, Raven feared, that to be strong enough to force open such a impenetrable door, could endanger the entire bunker- including their friends. 

“For once in your lives, Princess, just let me do this.” whispered Bellamy, quiet enough that even if their people just lingering just around the corner they couldn't overhear. 

She glared up at him silently, and stiff.

“We're wasting time.” he reminded less quietly, his dark eyes imploring her, and when she softened, just a touch, in resignation, he grinned quickly at her, causing her glare to darken once again. 

“C'mon, let me get to work. Start running.” he urged, tamping down his relief to nudge her shoulder. 

“Don't forget Raven said you have to stand back at least-” began the blonde strictly, but he cut her off.

“I know, I know, she told us only a hundred times.” 

Not that she'll let it go. Instead, they walk back the distance, and Clarke eyes him for a long moment. He smirks at her briefly as she stands in front of him suspiciously. 

“Don't you trust me?” 

Snorting, she nods anyway, before sighing out a long, low breathe. 

“With my life, yes. With yours, not so much.” she admits frankly, but turns away and forces herself to sprint out of sight because she knows every minute they waste is another risk to their people, and another that the mountain men have to scheme. 

Bellamy grins at her back, before sobering up, and counting in his head high, until he's sure she's had time to get half-way back at least. 

With the blast comes, echoing through the tunnels, she's hardly more than around the corner, and makes it back to him, flat on his stomach on the rough ground, before the dust settles. She rolls him hastily over to his back, and he blinks up at her. Unhurt, except for his ringing ears and the growing headache, he stumbles to his feet, leaning on her more than he'd like to admit to. 

Stiffly, they wait there, for the dust to settle, and to see if the mountain is about to fall down on them, but there's nothing except for the alarms ringing within the now-open bunker. The door's been completely knocked off the frame, and the frame bent's, and the interior is knocked around, but Raven's estimates were perfect it seems. Still, silently, they wait for the others to return, running heavily, with their footsteps announcing their arrival long before they're in sight, before they cross the threshold. Side-by-side at the front, she and Bellamy quickly end everyone who gets in the way. It's not many- the evacuation to level 5 is happening rapidly. It's only guards they're meeting in their path at least. As they near their destination, they're all flushed with adrenaline and nerves. Clarke stations Bryan at one end of the hallway, and sends Atom off ahead of them to the other. Left at the door, Raven and Wick are unaccustomed to the rifles in their hands, but not objecting. 

Only Bellamy and Monty are left to follow her inside, and the door is closed securely behind them. 

The Mountain Men are down to 372 by the time they enter the room where it happens. 

“How did it come to this again?” wonders Clarke within her own head only. 

She never wanted to do this again. All the efforts to avoid the mountain men, and yet here they are again. Contemplating the blurry line between duty and genocide. 

“The command center's live.” announced Monty- repeating himself even though he didn't know it. 

He hadn't asked how she knew what to ask him to do. 

Both Bellamy and Clarke were glued to one screen in particular. There was Charlotte. On the table. Screaming. The mountain men had progressed to bone marrow so much faster this time, and Clarke couldn't figure out why. There wasn't much time to ponder it. She's weighing the fates of hundreds of people, feeling ripples of times threatening to drag Wanheda down into the depths. Her head ached with the memories, and the weight of two lifetimes. This time, she knows how much damage this decision could wreck across the survivors. The room blurs before her eyes. Beneath her feet, the floor wavers, threatening her ability to stay upright, until Bellamy wraps an arm behind her back to steady her. 

“They have been kidnapping and killing for generations. They torture and experiment on humans for their own desire. They can't survive on Earth without harming other humans.” murmured Clarke, trying desperately to explain this to the pair with her. 

There was no other choice. 

Not with Myles used up, dead, and thrown away like trash. 

Not with Charlotte on the table under Cage's hand. 

Not with Monroe, and Sterling, and Fox, chained to the wall waiting their turn, screaming for Cage to take them instead. 

More than 300 lives for to save five? 

It was so eerily familiar, but instead of her mother, it's this little twelve year old that Clarke's actually managed to keep alive weeks longer this time. The children of Mt. Weather flashed into Clarke's mind, wrenching her heart, but then on the screen, Charlotte's body arched with the agony, contorting against the restraints frantically.

“With my head, not my heart.” remembers Clarke. 

“It's ready.” revealed Monty gravely. 

He watched her, waiting silently. This time, he hadn't been captured, and his eyes were so much less haunted. This boy was so much lighter than the one before, but no less loyal. The same trusting determination seemed to be there even now. 

Clarke reached for the lever. 

“They can't get away with this.” stated the young leader grimly, forcing herself to watch the screens, and she pulled the lever in one sudden, swift move. 

This time she would not hesitate; making Bellamy damn himself alongside her. He came to stand beside her anyway. Together they watched the devastation unfold. Monty watched too, firmly stoic, despite the horror they'd just unleashed. 

“I am become death, destroyer of worlds.” whispered Clarke, and both of her accomplices in genocide simply nodded at her words. 

“We're saving our people.” stated Bellamy, his voice somewhere between shock and resignation. 

“Let's get them out of here.” urged Monty gently. 

There was no other way.

“I know.” assured Bellamy tiredly. Until he replied, Clarke didn't realize that she'd spoken aloud. 

“Wait, where did that guy go?” asked Monty urgently, eyes scanning over the screens, trying to pick up Cage's location now. Only now does Clarke realize he's totally fled the camera sight of the medical room/torture chamber. 

“He knows any paths that aren't monitored.” pointed out Clarke wearily. 

“Then we split up and go after him.” urged Bellamy. 

This time he lead the way, and Clarke's mind was somewhere in a past few others could remember. At least.... at least this time, Jasper was back at camp, he'd never met much less fallen in love with Maya Vie, and so one heartbreak was avoided. It seemed so hollow to be thankful for this, but she was. Yet Maya was still dead, beside her father, and too many other good people. The bunker was full of death, and a race of people too weak for Earth was finished. 

They were dying, those who weren't already dead that is. With terrible whimpers and gasping breathes, the people that she'd helped destroy, were painfully dying. Raven walked through the halls, checking for survivors. Anyone in here that was not Skaikru nor Grounder was to be captured- for if they lived, it was at Myles' or one of the others' expense. Still, she gagged, even as she kept searching, making sure that no one here was capable of surviving.

It had to be done. It had to be done. It had to be done. Bellamy and Clarke's words repeated in her head heavily. No more of these kids could die. Finn had died for her, and she would try to keep the rest alive, for him. If only these people, these monsters who'd terrorized Earth for decades, but really, they probably hadn't even know what their leaders, what their guards, what their doctors were doing, did cry so pitifully as they died. Earth was so beautiful, and Raven had never wished to be back on the Ark as much as she did today. Pale and in pain, Atom follows her quietly, helping her search for survivors. 

The way to the torture chamber isn't totally clear. Clarke walks with Bellamy and Monty at her sides, and Wick and Bryan follow, shocked into silence. It doesn't truly feel like victory to any of them when they pass by the dead- all of them wearing guards' uniforms, or the occasional lab coat. One is a woman in a white coat, and Clarke knows they are close to their people now. But Wick hesitates just a breathe too long as they pass the macabre remains of the Lorelei Tsing, and he looks down at her too closely. He's bent over in half, puking, regret and horror squeezing his insides, before he knows it's going to happen. 

“Come on.” instructs Clarke the moment he's stopped retching, but Wick stays bent over. 

Gruffly, Bellamy and Bryan each take one of the engineer's arms to pull him along in Clarke's wake. Finally, Clarke stops before a door, that looks so unassuming, and at her nod, Monty opens it grimly. The youngest sky kid is still strapped, crying, to the table, and the room's a bloody mess from the cruelty. There's another few kids strung up on the wall. Wick meets her eyes, and nods in defeat. The others let go of him. He straightens up, panting as he tries to keep from throwing up again because if these teenagers can hold their breakfast in this nightmare, then he damn well should be able to. 

 

Together they rush in, swiftly separating, to free their friends from the restraints. 

Wick follows Clarke to the table where Charlotte lays achingly still and weeping. When Monty releases Harper, she grabs him tightly, but only a breathe later, she's heading towards the table, helping Wick ease Charlotte up to sitting while Clarke is intently examining her bloody frame. Bellamy's fingers fumble with the chains, but hastily, he releases Zoe and she falls into his arms, heaving from the effort of the screams she maintained till the sight of the recuse res appeared. With a relieved grin, Monty releases Fox just as Bryan is freeing Sterling, and finally, it feels like they've done it. Survived. 

“She won't be able to walk out of here.” announces Clarke heavily, brushing her hands carefully over her little apprentice. 

The words are barely out of Clarke's mouth before Zoe's arms drop from around him, and Bellamy turns toward the table without hesitation. He scoops Charlotte up from the supporting arms of Wick and Harper as gently as he can. The littlest blonde groans miserably at the movement despite his caution. 

“Let's get out of here.” urges Harper with her gaze shifting around the room as she holds herself stiffly in place, waiting. 

Everyone's more than ready to get out of the bunker, so Clarke nods, but first, there is one last stop to make. It brings them to an even more massive horror scene. Hundreds upon hundreds of cages, holding not animals, but humans who soon flooded out from their cages. Some still prickly in their fierce wariness, but most unable to do anything other than stumble along. Others laid listlessly, saved only by their fellows who picked them up to carry to the surface. 

Victoriously the skai prisa emerged from the Mountain, the first to ever do so, and standing there waiting, Trikru watched from the treeline. They knew now that it was done. It was in how she carried herself- there was no trace of failure, only the steadiness of what she'd done, and what still there was to do. Hundreds of footsteps echoed up from the passages of the mountain, following her, some in steady marching, but others in disquieting fragility. 

The little princess from the sky had done what thousands had not been able, with a handful of her people only at her back. Prophet, warrior goddess, Mountain Slayer. To stand before her in the wake of her triumph was to be honored among men. With hair shining with the sun, and eyes the color of the brightest sky, she'd come to Earth to change it. Trikru would be proud to call themselves the allies from now on. 

Where once she'd stood with Lexa, and the largest army gathered in a century, now Clarke froze, just steps outside of the bunker, to see those who'd waited out of sight emerge from the trees.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 

Day 76, continued 

The bright morning sunlight welcomed them out of the mountain into the icy air of their freedom. It had been under two hours since they'd first reached the tunnel's door, Clarke was certain. Anya had wasted no time apparently. Still carrying Charlotte, Bellamy came forwards out of the dim bunker to stand beside Clarke, though the rest waited at their backs restlessly. The grounder chief had brought a few warriors, including her painfully young second, and Nyko, with his son close beside him, but Clarke nor Bellamy even glanced at them. Summoning all of their attention was the pair of obvious prisoners being walked forwards, rough swords at their throats, by Anya and Caliban respectively. Neat as ever, and solemn as a grave, Dante Wallace tolerated the capture with the stoic grace Clarke remembered. Just out of arm's reach, under Caliban's hard grip, blood splattered and wild eyed, Cage Wallace was nowhere near emulating his father's composure. There was one major similarity between them however. Their smooth skin, and lack of pain on Earth's surface, breathing the fresh, irradiated air proved they had benefited from Myles' bone marrow. From his death. 

Forcing her feet to carry her, Clarke was vaguely aware of Bellamy's hurried movements to slide Charlotte into Bryan's arms, but the pained whimpers it drew from the girl echoed in her ears. His burden passed off, Bellamy caught up to Clarke with just a couple long strides. Trikru waited far from the bunker's great door, barely out of the treeline, and waited for them to approach. With a painful shove to the old man's shoulder, Anya brought him to his knees, and Caliban followed suit with the younger mountain man a heartbeat later. 

As the small number of Skaikru followed their leaders, the freed grounders, their lines seemingly without end, began to spill from the mountain's mouth in earnest. Unnoticed by the leaders, Nyko split off of Anya's huddle to begin trying to make sense of the sick and injured, waving to clear ground for the worst off to be laid. From behind them, the four kids Clarke had sent to Anya's village with a message this morning, came to rejoin their clansmen. 

Clarke reached the waiting huddle, looking down at pair, then back up at Anya. 

“I have killed all the rest of the Mountain Men. These two are the last unless others escaped first.” 

“No one has gotten past us.” stated Caliban harshly. 

“Then these are the last two. They are able to be above ground only because they drilled bone marrow out of one of my people.” murmured Clarke coolly. 

Anya swiftly cut Dante's throat and let his body hit the ground with a morbid thud. Trikru claimed the leader's death, at least. 

Clarke watched stiffly, not anywhere near surprised, but she moved her eyes to Cage- marble white with pupils blown wide in terror. 

Caliban suddenly withdrew from the last mountain man, when Clarke's gaze fell onto the vile prisoner, and the moment Clarke realized it, she drew her Trikru sword, impaling Cage with it even as he tried to scramble to his feet. 

The last mountain man screamed, falling onto his back, but still trying to get back up, even as blood rushed from him. 

They watched, everyone close by knew, even he got up to his feet, he wouldn't be surviving the wound.

Bellamy drew his gun, making the grounders back up in long, unhurried steps, and aimed. 

This Bellamy had never slaughtered an army. His aim was deadly nevertheless. 

The shot echoed in the heavy silence. 

“So ends the mountain men.” 

Cage's body went limp, dropping to the grass with a mundane thud. The monster was mortal after all. It should have been an important moment, but by the time he'd hit the ground, the heavy noise of hundreds of disoriented, traumatized grounders crashed over the executioners. 

“The dead are gone, and the living are hungry.” muttered the Skai prisa flatly. 

“Sha, Mountain slayer.” whispered Caliban reverently. 

With only a brief glance at the last president, to be sure he was truly dead, Clarke spun around on her heel, following the sound of Charlotte's cries. Only a few feet away, at the center of the huddle of Skaikru, Bryan still securely held her. Her eyes were closed, her head resting limply against him. Touching Charlotte's clammy forehead again anxiously, Clarke desperately tried to decide what must come next. 

Bellamy's eyes were roving over the scene, hectic and noisy, steadily, taking it all in, as he waited for the blonde at his side to do the same. Some of the grounders had barely paused to shake off the dazed relief as they emerged to the surface, and by now, were heading into the forest. They were wearing nothing more than the Mt. Weather issued white underwear and bandages, but far be it from Bellamy to try to convince them otherwise. Under Nyko, and now Anya's, gruff commands, the some sort of vague order was being implanted, the grounders separating into huddles. The urge to dive into helping them was tugging at the Skaikru healer, but first, the matter that even resting in Bryan's firm, motionless hold, her apprentice was still in pain had to be dealt with. It drove Clarke back towards the bunker with only a half-whispered explanation. Medicine, bandages, stretchers... just waiting in the damned mountain, and she couldn't ask any of her people to suffer by walking into the mass graveyard so soon just to retrieve it all. Though the Skaikru kids cringed, and the grounders openly flinched away at the sight, she marched right back through the massive door, horrified, but refusing to show it. With only his jaw clenched to show his hesitance, Bellamy followed her closely. He couldn't let her walk into there alone. Not after what they'd done. 

It was an hour before Charlotte was fit for travel, heavily medicated, carefully bandaged and dressed, wrapped warmly onto an actual stretcher, borne by Bryan, Wick, Raven, and Monty, carrying her home. Still dazed, but barely weakened by the blood draws, Zoe, Sterling, Harper, and Fox walked behind them, carrying Myles on a stretcher as well, covered with white sheets, and with instructions to send a group off to Anya's village with as much meat as could be carried as soon as they made it back to Hundred Camp. But Jill, Spencer, Bree, and Troy, the messengers Clarke had sent off this morning, stayed behind as well. Cage and Dante were tossed into the bunker, out of the walkway, and with Bellamy and the others, Clarke pulled out enough medical supplies, and food, for the freed prisoners.

Late Morning, Hundred Camp 

Hours in the half-lit dropship, crowded and anxiety-ridden, Skaikru waited in painfully quiet vigil. It was difficult to hear anything outside of the ship with it sealed up, and so, out of hope and fear, they kept their voices low, and their ears waiting. With a makeshift bathroom set up on the bottom floor in the medbay, it was an unpleasant experience, yet few could even be roused from their worries long enough to think of complaining. The messengers didn't return from Anya's village, as they should have. The three hours they'd been expected to return within had long since passed. Jasper waited with his back to the wall, under the lever for the door, desperately trying to hear any sounds at all from the outside. He kept thinking he'd heard something, but the triple knocks upon the ship's wall refused to come. 

When it finally sounded, he nearly jumped out of his skin, but even if he'd had enough concentration to be embarrassed, many of the others had done the same. The clan of teenagers came hurtling to their feet as Jasper frantically threw the lever, and they watched eagerly as the door lowered. 

It hit the ground with a muted thud, and the waiting kids gathered quickly at the doorway to look out. 

Two small groups each bearing a stretcher awaited them, and a cheer instantly went up, but it took only another moment for the sight of the sheet covered frame, and the lack of their leaders, to hit them. Silence fill again, but Zoe began barking out the instructions she'd been entrusted with, and Hundred Camp was quickly rolling into motion once again. 

Afternoon, Outside Mt. Weather 

Nyko was harried, trying to check out all of the people freed from the mountain, and it was not until hours later that Anya had reluctantly led the march off towards her village, with many of the released following, some two hundred easily, that Bellamy carefully closed, but not sealed, the bunker's door. At the back of the line, watching carefully as the released grounders either followed the Trikru chief, or went off in different ways into the forest, that Caliban nodded heavily towards Clarke. 

“Trikru is at your service.” reminded the stern warrior when she came over to his side silently. 

“The mountain could be useful- for all of us- but the bodies need to be disposed of.” revealed the Skai prisa bluntly. 

He nodded solemnly, eyes still raking over the prisoners. 

“Tomorrow, mid-morning, we will be here, and by sunset, the mountain men will be nothing more than ashes.” 

Day 76, Sunset, Hundred Camp 

The twenty-seventh grave. 

“Myles kom Skaikru has been avenged.” said Clarke with her eyes trailing over her people. 

Skaikru gathered together in a weary huddle around the graveyard yet again. Charlotte was still too sedated to stand, and Monty remembered in the dropship with her, but the rest of camp was there to watch yet another of their people be laid into the earth. They were used to it by now, their weary eyes said. 

They weren't even half-way to Praimfaya yet, and she wondered if any of them would even live long enough for Praimfaya to kill. Peace with the grounders, the end of the Mountain Men, yet even now, she could not promise them safety.

Day 76, That Night, Polis 

There was silence in the commander's hall. 

The news still rang in the air, Lexa having summoned the ambassadors as soon as she'd heard from Anya's pair of messengers. 

Without hesitation, Octavia rose to her feet. Her clansmen already standing to either side of her. 

“We're going.” announced the dark haired young ambassador flatly, eyes fixed on the commander intently. 

“Wait an hour. Ride with me.” ordered Lexa, rising to her own feet slowly, thoughtfully. 

On her feet, she stared back at Octavia, waiting for her obedience. Reluctantly, ready to head for the mountain this very moment, the ambassador conceded. 

Lexa's eyes swept over the rest of the delegations- from Indra's scowl to Azgeda's smirk. 

“All of you. I want a representative of every clan to attend. One hour.” snapped the commander. 

Lincoln met Octavia's eyes, and she smiled briefly at him. Wishing so badly that he remembered, that he truly understood what was happening, what her people were trying to do. 

An Hour Later 

The nitblidas, all in a neat row, stood with the flame-keeper's scout in front of them, and Costia at Aden's side, watching the large entourage depart in Heda's wake. 

“What now?” asked Aden quietly. 

“We keep vigil.” responded Gaia serenely. 

Day 77, Morning, Return to the Mountain 

The next morning, most of the camp managed to sleep past sunrise for the first time in weeks. There was jubilant relief at having five, though not all six, of their missing return, and confused awe at the tale of the mountain. Still awfully sore, but stubborn, Charlotte even insisted on being carried out to the fire, where Monty arranged a combination of a log and the cushions from the dropship for her to rest, eating and watching the camp. 

In the bright, cold light of morning, the first day of the rest of their lives post-genocide, neither Bellamy nor Clarke was sure if they should be more supervised at the dozen-odd of their people who'd followed them from camp, fully knowing the grisly task ahead, or at the twice-that number of Trikru men and boys waiting, silent and grim, just out of the trees in front of the bunker's great door. 

Caliban and Branch were both present, along with a couple of the boys who'd come to Hundred Camp during the sweating sickness, but grouped loosely behind them, were others that the Skaikru somewhat recognized from Anya's village. Younger warriors, mostly. Clarke sucked in a harsh breath as she realized these were possibly some of the three hundred she'd burned in the time before. 

“Hello, Mountain Slayer.” greeted Caliban gruffly, overlooking the rest of the Sky people. “I and my men at your command for this duty.” 

A shaky smile crossed her face briefly before she stiffened up. 

“There's three hundred and eighty-two bodies. Mostly adults, but there are about forty children. Burning on group pyres will probably be the most efficient disposal. They do have crematorium ovens inside, but it would take days, at least, to do them a couple at a time.” 

“We'll need... a dozen pyres, at least.” commented the eldest of the grounders flatly. 

She nodded jerkily. “Put all the children together on one or two of them... but let's just get all the adults up to the ground first. I'll sort them out once the pyres are ready.” 

Caliban began barking out orders, and his men separated, most heading quickly into the forest, for wood, apparently, but a couple of them made their way to the great door, waiting uneasily for someone else to lead the way in. 

“Most of them are on level 5, but we can start with whatever ones we find on the way.” muttered Bellamy. 

Gritting his teeth, he left Clarke's side to be the first to walk back into the bunker. It had been a full day now, the bodies needed to be dealt with as quickly as possible. Caliban and Branch both followed him, along with all of the Skaikru group, including Clarke. Monty came up to from the group to walk beside her, just behind Bellamy and the handful of grounders going in. 

Though Fox and Sterling had stayed behind, sticking close to Charlotte, in camp which was back under Jasper's uncertain command, Zoe and Harper had come, to see what had been done in their name. Atom had been left at Clarke's order, due to the minor wound from yesterday, but Bryan, Raven and Wick had come, feeling the need to finish what they had began. Jill, Spencer, Bree, and Troy had felt the same need to help, and a few of the watch crew had quietly volunteered when they'd seen the group preparing to leave this morning. 

None of the Sky people felt comfortable weeping in front of the dauntless warriors, but few of them could stop it anyway. At least, they mostly managed to do so quietly, and just barely kept from vomiting within the bunker at least. They refused to leave the task, their responsibility, to the grounders. 

The Trikru had a different idea of children than the Skaikru did. The teenagers were left laying in careless rows with the adults just to the side of the entrance- assumed guilty by age alone, while the preteens and younger were lifted up to lay on the first pyre as innocents. 

Trikru built fifteen pyres, all evenly spaced, and even larger than the one Clarke remembered from before- the one where Finn had laid in rest with his victims. 

Clarke trudged into the sunlight yet again, this time carrying the boy she knew only as Lovelace, marked on the backpack he'd been slumped over on the ground still wearing. In the past, Bellamy, with haunted eyes, barely able to more than whisper, had told her of the child, of killing his father just before seeing the boy. He was only four or five, and surely didn't weigh forty pounds even. Bile rose hotly in her throat as she cradled him to her chest. Her footsteps fell heavily, without grace or care, as she carried him to the surface for the first and last time. This boy, little more than a toddler, had never had a chance. This is her doing, Clarke reminds herself mercilessly. 

Just behind her, Bellamy emerged, this time carrying Maya Vie, still in her scrubs. He did not know why Clarke had told him to lay her beside the children, but she'd told him to be careful with her, so he would. Her outfit marked her as medical staff, all of the rest of them were being laid with the guards and few known government officials. Maybe, once this day was finally over, she'd make herself tell Maya's story from another life. 

Once Clarke had laid the younger Lovelace down on the pyre with his few peers, she walked over to the waiting bodies of the adults brought up in the last few minutes. Most were simply placed on the middle pyres but those Clarke recognized as one-time allies, she'd instruct the Trikru men to carry over to the pyres closest to the children. 

The day dragged on, and no one had much of an appetite, though the Trikru did stop briefly to eat a small stash of provisions, the Skaikru couldn't handle anything other than sips of water. It'd taken hours, but finally the bunker was no longer a literal graveyard. Pausing only for a moment to catch his breath. Caliban kom Trikru watched the skai prisa eyeing the corpses, judging the souls and dividing them accordingly. He did not dare ask how she could know the weight of their stained souls, and neither did his men. The small, soft looking girl lead them back into the ground yet again, now to raid the food stores more thoroughly. With a stubborn set to her jaw, she insisted the massive stockpiles be brought to the freed captives and their hosts. 

They worked late into the day, the sun had long since set. The very last pyre was where they were laying the children, and Clarke planned to send them off with the traveler's blessing at least. It was a pathetic gesture that she couldn't force herself to do not. Maya, and her father, and the children... they could have been saved. Skaikru could have induced to donate enough marrow for those few at least. If there had been time. If Charlotte hadn't been in agony. 

All but the last three pyres were burning, and Clarke was laying the last child she'd found onto the last pyre when riders broke through the trees. 

The Commander remained on her horse as she looked over the scene impassively. 

“The Skai Prisa has brought down the Mountain.” announced Caliban in harsh explanation. 

“The Mountain Men are dead.” concurred Anya cruelly, with a vicious smirk as she looked over the pyres. 

Lexa looked at Clarke, at her blank face the grounders might see as strength, but was more actually was more akin to shock.

“We all owe a debt that we can never repay to the mighty Wanheda.” announced the young commander firmly. 

Octavia immediately broke out from the ranks filing quickly into the open space, leaving Lincoln behind, though his eyes remained on her as she moved. Harper was the closest in the young ambassador's path, and she was swiftly, tightly embraced, before being left so that Octavia could grasp each of her clansmen in turn in her harsh relief. 

“Wanheda, please walk with me. There is much to discuss.” requested Lexa quietly. 

Not responding right away despite so many eyes upon the interaction, Clarke glanced to Bellamy, but he was watching his sister make her way through greeting their people. Seeing them occupied, Clarke nodded curtly at Lexa in acknowledgment, but waited for her own hard hug from Octavia first. 

“You're all ok?” asked Octavia urgently, whispering into Clarke's ear as they gripped each other.

Clarke shook her head harshly against the younger girl's shoulder. 

“Myles is dead. Charlotte was... injured. Marrow was taken from hip, terribly. She'll live, but...” returned Clarke into a matching whisper. 

Once Octavia backed off, her face hard, and eyes grim, Clarke returned her gaze to Lexa, whom gestured shortly towards the woods, to a path beginning many feet away from the one the commander had just emerged from. Alone, the young leaders went off into the forest, walking silently, not quite close enough to brush against each other till they were far out of earshot. Smoothly, Lexa stopped, sitting gracefully with her back to a tree. 

Frowning faintly, Clarke purposefully remained standing, though she too positioned herself automatically with her back against another tree opposite the commander. 

“What do you want, Lexa?” 

Lips twitching, in what could have either a stifled smirk, or repressed grimace, the heda nodded back towards the mountain. 

“Peace and survival.” answered Lexa smoothly, and Clarke's frown deepened, prompting the commander to continue quietly. 

“You have triumphed once again, Wanheda.” 

“I wanted that name to die-” cut in Clarke waspishly.

“It is too valuable to let it fade from existence.” countered Lexa briefly, before continuing her train of thought. “What now becomes of this place?” 

Clarke glanced back at the path that had led them from the haunted bunker painfully. It wasn't an unexpected question, despite her slowness to answer. She'd always known that Lexa did not understand her regret over the genocide. That combined with the commander's affinity for swift planning meant she'd already been considering this since the moment she'd awoke this morning. 

“At least some of the prisoners, and their families, should be able to ride out Praimfaya here. Indra would make a good leader here, but you will need at least two dozen Skaikru to run it. We'll need to assess the bunker first, but I'm guessing it's max capacity is around 600. Maybe as high as 800. The extra space could mean we save animals, giving ourselves a source of meat during praimfaya, and improving our chances afterwards.” 

“Animals?” asked Lexa curiously.

“Horses, goats, cattle, chickens... maybe fish, bees, things like that. It probably took decades last time for them to come back into thriving, if we save a few dozen each, and carefully breed them, we can speed things up significantly.” 

“At the loss of human spots?” 

“There'll be no point to saving anybody if the Earth isn't livable anytime soon. There's only so long people can live in a confined space before they start turning on each other.” 

“We need to choose the people carefully then. Those able to be useful, and those able to raise families.” 

Clarke nodded curtly. 

“Wells can lead the Skaikru group who stay here-”

“So Skaikru will be giving up spots in Wonkru?” 

“No. I want to absorb some of Arkadia- there are some who would follow us loyally.” 

Lexa nodded, thinking carefully, as she gazed at Clarke with bright, clear eyes. 

“Then as you say it, it shall be.” 

Blinking rapidly, Clarke tried to mask her surprise at the heda's easy agreement, but forged on as soon as she could.

“If Indra is to lead here, she should be told what is coming.” 

 

Later that Evening

The first time around, Lexa had never set foot inside the mountain, and now, she wasn't sure she should have changed that. If her people were to dwell here, taking santucary for years, though, she could not remain in ignorance of the reality of it. She'd sent most of them on to Anya's hospitalty, knowing there was much to be done there as well. A few Skaikru were still wandering around, grimly attempting to figure out just how many lives the underground village could support, and for long, but they kept out of Lexa's way. It might have been respect, but Lexa silently suspected it was more likely simple indifference. The mountain slayer herself had taken up residence in what she called the president's office. Quietly joining the blonde, Lexa looked around, not bothering to hide her curiosity. 

“Tell me, Lexa. Did you have John murdered?” 

Curled up in a old, but once luxurious chair, Clarke looked less like a legend and more like a mournful teenager. Not that Lexa could see it. To the commander, the sky princess was nothing less than magnificent, even now. But someone less awed by her would notice how hollow her eyes appeared, and how wearily she held herself. 

“Of course not.” denied Lexa, with brows furrowed and approaching Clarke warily. 

“It's funny how I turned down your advances, and then my boyfriend is killed by one of your warriors.”

“I would not hurt you in that way, I swear it.” murmured the commander quietly. 

Clarke sneered scornfully, turning away to stare off into the distance. 

“I am staying a couple nights at Anya's hospitality before I return to Polis. Some of the survivors will walk with us, at least part of the way, but many are choosing to stay with Anya and her people, as you requested.” 

that night back in Hundred Camp

His people lay, sleeping soundly, and Bellamy sat by the fire, considering them. 

With the Mountain Men dead, and a truce with the grounders, Bellamy had sent the rest to bed. Every single one of them. The grounders might start a war, but it wouldn't be when this victory was so fresh. Tonight they could feel safe enough for everyone to sleep together. For the first time since they'd landed, there was no one on watch tonight. 

The cabin was full and quiet- the crowded rows of dozens of kids, more like a pile of puppies in a den, sleeping deeply after the emotional day, the rank and file of Skaikru. 

The upper level of the dropship was full of snores and muttered grumbles of sleep- Atom, Raven, Wick, Bryan, Miller, Wells, and Jasper. 

The lower level had a full row, huddled closely together, at ease only pressed against each other- Monty, Harper, Sterling, Fox, Zoe, Charlotte, Clarke, and Octavia. 

Charlotte would live, though Clarke had whispered that her left hip might never be the same. Truly soreness and weakness were the only symptoms, and would need time and rest to improve.

Sterling, Fox, Zoe, and Harper would be fine with rest, meat, and fluids. Atom had been grazed than hit, and would be healed up soon enough. There was only one fresh grave here tonight. A single loss to the Mountain Men's near four hundred, their entire people, was undeniably victory. 

Tomorrow, the sun would rise, and life would go on, inexplicably rough, but for tonight, all was well enough. 

With a sigh, the slightest tinge of guilty over so easily accepting the boy's death, Bellamy rose, and with a last look over camp, joined the huddled row in the drop ship, laying beside his sister for the first time in what felt like forever. Not since before their mother died, when O was still a cuddly kid, had he slept close enough to hear her slow, deep breathing. He'd never felt so safe back then- when all of their lives had hung in the balance every minute. This peace, this comfort, this home... 

This was worth fighting for. 

Day 78 

It seemed that Skaikru as a whole was worn out by the sheer adrenaline and stress of the past few days. Camp was slow to wake, and even slower to rouse up into their daily chores, staying wrapped in their blankets and furs in the body heat warmed cabin as long as they could manage. Close to the fire, resting on cushions brought out from the drop ship, Clarke had settled down between Charlotte and Mary Eng. The healer in her was at the forefront with the currently two most “delicate” of her people, and she was watching them to be sure both were comfortable and had enough to eat, not noticing that both the younger girls were watching her just as carefully. Around them, the camp was only just beginning to get into the rhythms of their life here on the ground when the only watcher on duty, Nathan Miller, above the gate, called out in a deep rumble, his voice still heavy from sleep. 

“Heda at the gate!” 

Freezing, Clarke processed the news, and took a breathe to go from thinking as a healer, to as the Skaikru leader. Charlotte squeezed her mentor's hand gently, and Clarke flashed her a quick smile before standing up to deal with whatever was waiting now. 

Miller let her out of the gate, where Lexa was waiting alone just across the small clearing. 

“What are you doing here?” asked Clarke bluntly, but quietly enough to keep the entire camp from listening in. 

“I need to speak with you. I leave for Polis the day after tomorrow. Many plans are yet to be completed. Let us walk.” 

“Have you heard from Roan?” asked Clarke, heading off vaguely in the direction of the art supply store, as Finn had dubbed it long ago. 

The commander shook her head slightly as she joined Clarke with a few swift strides to catch up. 

“No, but that is not unexpected. The deal is too sensitive to risk messengers.” 

They walked together, speaking quietly, and going over the details of the Mount Weather bunker, and the stipulations to be placed on choosing survivors, until Clarke abruptly decided they'd gone far enough, and turned on her heel to begin the walk back towards Hundred Camp, more than a hour's slow pace away. Lexa did not object, but watched the blonde intently. 

“Tomorrow, from sun down until first light, Trikru, and the coalition, will honor you with a feast and celebration.” announced Lexa slowly, with more hesitance than Clarke had ever imagined even of the commander. 

Gaping, and sputtering, her infamous cold composure deserting her, Clarke stopped their progress to throw her hands up into the air. 

“You can't be serious!” she finally ventured, exasperation dripping from every syllable. 

“We must show our gratitude to Wanheda. Indra is traveling to the villages nearby, and people of many clans are coming from Polis. They bring supplies to assist the mountain survivors in settling here, and to honor this victory.” continued Lexa calmly, though she was eyeing the blonde as one would a particular unpredictable animal. 

“I can't go to a party celebrate the blood on my hands.” hissed Clarke fiercely, spitting her words out, with her eyes alight with her anger. 

“We must mark this change, and it will bring our people closer. Afterwards, we go back to Polis. Please return with me.” 

Lexa looked so very sincere, gazing at her solemnly. Whether her beauty or her acting skills were more frustrating, Clarke wasn't certain. It was growing easier to walk away from the commander though. Maybe it was just took practice. Or watching a second lover of hers die under Lexa's rule had killed off her softness for the heda finally. 

Though Clarke turned away and stalked off towards the hundred camp, Lexa swiftly followed, catching the other girl's arm to halt her. 

“There is too much to be done before Praimfaya for you to remain away from the planning.” insisted the commander intently.

Frozen, not pulling her arm away from Lexa, but unwilling to face her, Clarke snarled wordlessly until the commander released her. Without a glance back, the blonde stormed back to her home. 

“May we meet again.” whispered Lexa in the quiet, still forest she was left alone in. Titus was waiting for her, just out of sight of the now much expanded boundaries of Anya's village, where grounders were staying in quickly being assembled huts and tents all around the existing homes. 

“Wanheda will remain here with her duties, but we will escort her second back to Polis with the ambassador and advisers.” announced the commander flatly, passing by Titus without pause. 

“You have her second educated beside the sacred children. You give her honor among them! They have no right-” retorted the flame-keeper desperately, turning to walk at her side. 

“It is their right! They are nightbloods!” roared Lexa impatiently, and Titus' face fell into open shock. 

“Who?” he asked with dread obvious in his low voice. 

“Clarke, Charlotte, and Octavia.” stated Lexa gruffly. 

“Are there more among their people?” asked Titus in horror.

“I do not know. The Arkadians are a... barbaric, and secretive people. They kill their women and their young. The secret of the night blood is one of the most bitterly guarded. Not celebrated. In the sky, it is taboo. The lucky hear the legends before they are discovered, and hid it from everyone they can- even their own families. Their own parents. Skaikru has only just broken from the Arkadians, there may be more that they do not know of. Clarke has yet to even call for the nitblidas among her clan.” explained Lexa darkly. 

“Heda, we can never trust these people.” stated Titus pleadingly. 

“Clarke is different. Arkadia betrayed every one of Skaikru by imprisoning them as children, by killing their parents, and by throwing them from the Sky. Clarke will make sure her people know where their loyalties lie.” retorted the commander firmly.


	19. The Feast of Wanheda

Chapter 19 

Day 79, Hundred Camp 

With grounders pouring into the area by the dozen, Bellamy and Clarke had decided that, as the bulk of Skaikru still spoke little to none of their language, and many grounders spoke no English, to keep the gates closed, pulling water and food from their stores. It would mean making it up with extra trips soon, but it was worth it perhaps to prevent unsanctioned interactions between people who couldn't converse with each other easily. With nervous curiosity building throughout the day, it passed slowly, and without hunting and gathering trips, the camp was milling around restlessly, until Clarke had snapped at late morning, and put the camp into a four hour shutdown- sending everyone inside to nap, or at least rest. The teenagers had grumbled and dragged their feet, disbelieving that they were being sent to nap like preschoolers, but many had eventually drifted off from the enforced quiet and inactivity. They'd be well-rested for whatever the night brought them, at least. Taking her own advice only after the cabin had finally fallen silent as ordered, Clarke herself had even allowed herself to be squished between Charlotte and Harper, on the bottom of the drop ship on their bedrolls for a few hours sleep. 

Bellamy began rousing first the drop ship, then the cabin, when he guessed it was about two hours till sundown, and just as they'd grumbled on their way to lay down, the delinquents came awake slowly and grumbling. Once they'd rubbed the sleep from their eyes and got their blood moving again pouring from their shelters, the anxious excitement quickly returned, and together they prepared to leave- piling on jackets and furs, bundling blankets up to carry like packs, and anything else they couldn't bear to part with. For once, weapons were not included in that. Not even pocket knives could be permitted tonight, Octavia yelled at them as she watched the preparations with sharp eyes. 

Lexa had ordered that only she, and Clarke, and their personal guards, would be allowed to carry weapons for the night. Knowing Lexa would have most likely two warriors personally at her side, Clarke choose two as well- deciding on Nate and Bryan, because they both tended to hover as well. At least Nate did, and Bryan followed his lead. In easily less than twenty minutes, their clan was lined up in rows of three waiting to leave. 

“Just try to get along with everyone, and... enjoy the feast. I know the idea of a... party... is uncomfortable considering what happened, but it's important that we show our willing to learn their customs.” instructed Clarke anxiously. 

“Don't cause any diplomatic disasters, or else.” barked Nathan Miller sharply from her side, both Wells and Octavia nodding grimly in agreement. 

“Why are we going to this?” asked Bellamy wearily. 

“It's a party! We need to relax.” piped in Bree from along the edges of their cluster at the gate, not appearing to notice the disgusted looks thrown at her. 

“Because improving Skaikru's image is a life or death issue.” grunted Octavia, ignoring the cheerful girl completely. 

Bellamy scoffed, but nodded his head for the gate to be opened, and the walk to begin anyway. They would be staying the night in the village, as long as things went well, Bellamy reminded them all repeatedly, so most of the delinquents had their packs on. According to Tris and Artigas, who'd run back and forth a couple times visiting and carrying messages since the mountain's fall, most of the freed prisoners had already left the area- returning to their homes, or at least putting as much distance between them and their former prison as possible. Yet Trikru had come from miles around, and it seemed like half of Polis had followed when Costia and Lexa's novitiates came the day before. Several other Trikru kids had accompanied the self-appointed messenger pair this time, to eagerly escort the whole of Skaikru to the feast. It reminded many of them of the march to Arkadia weeks before, the only other time they'd left camp empty. Even then, a few of their number had been left behind in Ton DC, and another few had been in Polis at the time, so this was the first time they'd all traveled together, despite it being only an hour's walk. That was just before the sweating sickness though, and their numbers had been greater then anyway. Though Charlotte had begun the walk on her own feet, near the back, Bellamy soon scooped her up with a fond grin for her stubbornness. He jogged forwards despite her weight, near the front for her amusement, while Clarke remained near the back, walking slowly beside Mary Eng, knowing with confidence that Nate and Bryan were behind them. 

The noise of the gathering rose up to meet Skaikru well before the it came into sight. When finally they broke through the trees, the parade froze, crowding together uncertainly in amazement. Few of Skaikru had ever left the woods surrounding Hundred Camp except for the brief visit to Arkadia, at most a couple dozen had visited Ton DC, only a handful having made the trip to Polis. The sprawling, eclectic village was now packed full of rough tables, tents, pallets, and cooking fires, and a couple hundred people at work at least. The large field behind it was filled with massive bonfires, carefully tended. Sunset was still at least an hour off, but a couple hundred more people were already milling around. 

A cheer went up by the Trikru kids in the village, carried on by many of those in the field, when Skaikru came into sight at the edge of the trees. 

“Mountain slayers!” 

At the roar of the gathering, Lexa swept open the entrance to her familiar red tent, and smirked at the sight of Skaikru, slowly creeping into view from the forest. 

“Welcome Wanheda, and the Clan of Skyborns!” called the commander warmly, as Indra and Anya emerged from the tent behind her, much more stiffly. 

Remembering the instructions given to her, Tris nudged her way through the crowds to reach Clarke's side, and urged her forwards to greet the Trikru leaders first. Behind her, the rest of their very young escorts were encouraging the rank and file of Skaikru to proceed on to the field, to wait for sunset together. 

The drums swelled, and dropped away, the solemn beat invoking the night she'd knelt to Lexa to bring forth the alliance of another lifetime. Keeping her chin high, and her eyes wide open, she moved forwards before intending to sink to her knees yet again in the same sacrifice of her pride, but Lexa surged forward, clasping the blonde's arm tightly, and they locked eyes for a long moment. Then the commander raised her eyes to sweep them over the watching crowd. 

“Wanheda bows to no one.” declared the commander of the thirteen clans, firm and cold, promising pain for anyone foolish enough to speak out. 

Clarke nodded her head, and gripped Lexa's arm in return, before letting go and stepping back.

“Tonight we honor Wanheda, and the Skyborns who follow her.” continued the commander proudly. 

Soon enough, Clarke was swept off from the commander's tent, into the noisy bustle of the field. 

There was no set dance- plenty couples, mostly Trikru, but many obviously born of other clans having come from Polis, were wrapped together, barely swaying. Meanwhile there were clusters of girls, not touching anyone, but circling their hips sensually to the beat, while still others moved teasingly around and against each other in swift, graceful moves. Even Costia, whom had seemed so prim and proper until this, had let herself be pulled into one such mass, not far from Lexa's throne. The commander didn't join in, to no one's surprise, but watched carefully, with bright eyes and stoic set to her own lovely face. 

“It's nice that his isn't painfully awkward, or anything, huh.” joked Harper quietly, maintaining the small smile on her face like a shield. 

“The Trikru kids are actually... flirting!” realized Clarke in confused amusement. 

“Hey, improving relationships, right?” teased Octavia smugly. 

Clarke snorted, but with a determined smirk, Octavia grabbed both Harper and Zoe by the arm, hauling them off with her to where a bunch of young Trikru, Lincoln included, were talking. Fox hesitantly followed behind them, and soon most of Skaikru was mixing with hesitant curiosity. 

All around the greatest bonfire, Clarke watched her people, in pairs and little groups, growing bolder as the night, and moonshine, continued. Octavia and Lincoln's slow, swaying dance, just beyond the firelight wasn't surprising, but Wells' eager hovering over the just barely smiling Gaia was. Zoe had dragged Bellamy out to the edges of the dancing, though they were just watching others as they slowly swayed in small circles, particularly the almost obnoxiously eager Bree, Troy, and ??? Jasper was dancing rather awkwardly sweetly with Mischa, beside Monty and Harper, and Sterling and Fox. Most of the Skaikru girls were out on dancing, in pairs or little groups, in fact, though Raven and Wick were sitting rather snugly near the fire, drinking from a shared cup. Atom and Collette were sitting not far from the impromptu dance floor. Some couples, both Trikru, and Skaikru, and even more curiously, intermixed, were slipping off as discretely as they could while giggling, into the woods. 

All night ambassadors had been bringing their clansmen forwards to present them to her, and give thanks. Most of the clans had few people present- just the ones who'd been in Polis or traveling within reach at the time, so most of the celebration was Trikru. It was fitting, since they'd been the ones most terrorized by the mountain. Charlote was sitting on her own little spot, with Aden and the novitiates surrounding her while Tris and Artigas eagerly introduced more of the Trikru kids to them. 

Somehow, in the a lull where the singer, a robust older blonde Clarke remembered from the Polis tower was resting with a glass of the sweet, tangy cherry wine, one of the Skaikru girls Clarke had barely ever noticed, was pushed up on the great boulder being used a stage, that many of them had also seen used a table for butchering animals. Shyly keeping her eyes lifted to the sky, the girl, began to hesitantly sing songs that Clarke only faintly recognized from hearing on the Ark. As she went on, her voice grew stronger, and despite Clarke's concern, none of the grounders objected to the English songs of the Sky- though truthfully, they were from Earth, before the first Praimfaya. 

Falling too fast to prepare for this  
Tripping in the world could be dangerous  
Everybody circling, it's vulturous  
Negative, nepotist  
Everybody waiting for the fall of man  
Everybody praying for the end of times  
Everybody hoping they could be the one  
I was born to run, I was born for this  
Whip, whip  
Run me like a racehorse  
Pull me like a ripcord  
Break me down and build me up  
I wanna be the slip, slip  
Word upon your lip, lip  
Letter that you rip, rip  
Break me down and build me up  
Whatever it takes  
'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins  
I do whatever it takes  
'Cause I love how it feels when I break the chains  
(Whatever It Takes by Imagine Dragons)   
Sitting alone on the pallet laid out especially for her, Clarke was surprised when Caliban approached, and when she nodded at him in greeting, lowered himself to sit beside her. Not quite touching, but close enough to speak despite the general din of a few hundred people gathered together in high spirits. 

“A fitting song for your people, I think.” rumbled the grounder warrior approvingly. 

Nodding her silent agreement, Clarke was sure some of the lyrics didn't make sense to them, but he was right- the girl, Katie Stano, Clarke was almost sure she was named, had chosen, consciously or not, a perfect song to remind the grounders that at heart, Skaikru wasn't so very different. 

“Your people are coming along acceptably considering how little time they have been working.” remarked the Trikru man lowly enough that there was no chance of the Skaikru kids overhearing the lukewarm, but rare praise. 

“I believe they have potential, and they are practicing at home in between our trips here.” she assured him swiftly. 

“It is regretful that John kom Skaikru fell so young. He would have made a good warrior in time. Brave and loyal, a worthy man even if he was hardly more than a child.” acknowledged Caliban impassively. 

Abruptly, though, forgetting to listen to the song being belted out by the untrained, but well-intended girl, Caliban's eye caught on one of the huddles of children. 

“Elon!” barked out the gruff warrior sharply, and one of the small brown haired boys popped his head up immediately. The kid looked around for a moment before spying who'd called him, and rushed over like someone had waved a flaming sword at his behind. 

Stopping before Caliban and Clarke, who eyed him curiously, which he returned unabashedly, the boy bounced on his feet lightly. To the Skaikru girl, it looked like the kid was trying to restrain him from chattering, and she thought fondly that he remembered her a little of Jasper in that moment. 

“Elon is one of the most promising of our village. He will make a fine warrior, and ally for Skaikru one day.” Caliban stated firmly. 

Clarke nodded warmly at the boy, who'd puffed up proudly at the warrior's praise. 

“Then I am very glad to meet you, Elon.” announced the blonde girl kindly, and the boy had looked terribly curious. 

“Back to your duties.” instructed Caliban. Though the child looked a little like he'd rather stayed, he scampered off quickly enough. The Trikru children all seemed quick enough to obey, but none so much as those chosen to be trained as warriors.

“It is good to know that the Trikru children see us favorably.” stated Clarke absently, watching as the boy rejoined the small huddle of children intently watching the actual training going on. 

Caliban was summoned away to deal with some.. overly excited Trikru boys, and Octavia stealthily stole into the free spot the moment he was gone. 

“John's gone.” announced Clarke, quietly, but certain. 

“Yea.” agreed the darker haired girl steadily, her eyes only watching the other discretely in between watching over the lively gathering. 

“No, I mean... I mean... I don't see him now. He watched me light the pyres and then when I looked back, he was gone.” explained the blonde slowly, painfully. 

Octavia merely held space for her, waiting, listening, refusing to intrude on whatever Clarke needed to say. 

“I wasn't ready to let him go. It horrified me last time, with Finn, but... it was different now. Things were so different, and it was hardly the weirdest thing to happen.” 

“At least you still had him in some way.” agreed Octavia quietly, when the silence trailed on too long, and Clarke nodded instantly, glad to know her friend understood that part. If anyone did, it would be Octavia. 

“Atom, Lincoln, Ilian... I know what you mean about letting them go. But I don't... I mean, would we ever be ready to let them go?” mused the Skaikru ambassador barely above a whisper, careful of eavesdroppers. 

Clarke's head titled slightly, though she too kept her eyes on the writhing crowds before them, finding it easier, as always, to talk to Octavia if they weren't looking at each other. 

“Maybe. I don't know.” she admitted hesitatingly. 

“It's different this time, you know. I love him, he's my home, but.. he doesn't know it. But... we're... going slow. It's nice. And weird. I don't know. I don't just want to rush him because of... everything.” -Octavia, regarding how slowly she's taking things with Lincoln this time.

The night wore on, and despite the enforced nap, Skaikru was lagging. Full of the rich food they never had at Hundred Camp, much less on the Ark, well pasted relaxed by the sweet wine, and worn out from dancing to the heavy beat of drums and untranslatable songs. The night was freezing, but the fires blazed on. With bodies huddled close, shrouded in furs, and the warmth in their stomachs from the plentiful offerings, they ignored the biting air. The elders of Ton DC retreated to their homes, and the travelers to their well-lined tents, but the youth of Trikru slept side-by-side with the flushed Skaikru. Even the precious nightblood novitiates were sprawled out among Tris, Charlotte, and the rest. 

Day 80, camp around Ton DC 

Watching the dawn, and the slumbering camp, Lexa smiled slightly in satisfaction. Their people would be one. They'd weren't so truly different. 

It was nearly mid-day by the time the makeshift camp surrounding Ton DC revived itself, much of it sluggish and scarcely rested. Heda was merciless anyway, loudly barking the orders to prepare for departure, smirking all the while, her own head clear and sharp. Skaikru shuffled aimlessly among the Trikru youth, aimlessly, waiting around only to see the caravan off before they'd too head the much shorter distance to their own home. The visitors had been instructed to return home, same as Lexa's entourage, so that Ton DC only had to contend with hosting the remaining freed mountain prisoners. 

Clarke allows Charlotte to return to Polis on the condition that she lives in Octavia's quarters, and continues her healing training with Costia and fighting training with the nightbloods only after resting for at least another week or two. 

“Rest, with only light activity for a week, and no physical training for at least two weeks. Start slow, and don't try to push through the pain.” instructed Clarke, once again, tightly, glaring at both Lexa and Octavia in turn, though her words were aimed at Charlotte, who grinned cheekily for a brief flash. 

Surrounded by their people, Clarke stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Bellamy, and stiffly, they watched the caravan prepare to depart. It was a hectic mix of riders, horses drawing carts, and people on foot, that Clarke expected would loosen up quite a bit once they got into motion. 

It was with a heavy heart that Clarke was watching her little apprentice leave. If she must lay about and rest, Charlotte insisted she wanted to be back in the noisy, interesting city. Still too sore from the bone marrow drawing to ride, but instead following Lexa's crowded entourage, she would ride in a cart to Polis to recover there. Physically fine besides the lingering pain/weakness. 

Octavia though was upon Helios with Wells, and Lincoln flanking them attentively. Lexa had quietly promised to take frequent breaks, and they'd be making camp for the night already the half-way point. Much more uncertainty, Fox and Sterling, and a handful of the younger boys, stuck close behind. It was a good idea for more of Skaikru to mix with the grounders, and these were all boys who'd trained under Caliban's hand, so Clarke was reasonably confident at their ability to get along in Polis. 

With a yell from Lexa, and a firm kick to her horse setting her into motion, the parade lurched forwards eagerly in jerking unevenness. With heavy thuds, the many overlaid jangling of metals, and a general din of too many people trying to begin a journey, they were off. 

“It never gets easier to watch our people leave.” admitted Bellamy bluntly, his eyes never wavering from the sight of his sister's long, thin braids swaying to the beat of her horse's hooves. 

“Normally I'm one of the ones leaving I guess.” mused Clarke. 

“Not this time at least.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't normally post on the weekends, but I want to get this chapter out because there's a big part coming up that I'm really excited about. I realized that Bryan is supposed to be on Farm Station, and thus wouldn't have shown up yet. Ooops. Eventually I'll be editing and replacing the chapters he accidentally appeared in so far.

Chapter 20

Day 84 

The sun was quickly setting, but the march moved ahead steadily. The approaching darkness not daunting them, as the main path between Ton DC and Hundred Camp had become familiar terrain thanks to the twice weekly trips for training. Some of them would be called upon to make fast runs of the hour's walk occasionally with messages as well, making them even more confident of the path. Tonight, their number was swollen to thirty thanks to Clarke and Nathan's presence, and they never had less than twenty at least. Tired, but eager to be home, their voices rose and fell in pleased chatter, never bothering to try for stealth. Lagging behind the rest, absently ensuring no one was left behind, Clarke and Bellamy talked in low, intent voices, not bothering to keep up with the group's fast-paced chatter. 

“I'm going back to Arkadia.” announced Clarke flatly, slowing her steps even more. 

“Have you lost your mind?” retorted Bellamy instantly, crowding closer to her. 

Her look at him was answer enough- weary, but determined, with her mouth set in a hard line. Bellamy glared back, before looking away in frustration, noting that their group was now out of sight. 

“Why?” 

Clarke was the one to look away this time. 

“Lexa's calling for a summit in a couple weeks. They need to be there to join the coalition.” 

“Who else are you bringing?” asked Bellamy curtly. 

“It didn't exactly go well last time-” she started before he interrupted.

“And now you don't have your boyfriend to gut guards for you.” 

Suddenly halting in the narrow, dirt path, she glared at him furiously, striking out at his face before she even considered it, slapping him harshly. 

“But she'll have me.” grunted Miller, having silently doubled back from the group, unwilling to tell either of them he'd been waiting, listening, just around the next turn. 

“Trikru will come on our fourth day, to discourage any foolishness from Arkadia.” 

“You know, Princess, when you two didn't take off with the rest back to Polis, I actually thought it meant you'd be sticking around for a while. Guess that was stupid.” - Bellamy accused heatedly, ignoring Miller with ease. 

“We're leaving tomorrow. Try to convince Derek and Mary to come with us. His leg is still bothering him, and it should really be healed by now. And Mary... I mean, I'm still hoping she'll go...” - Clarke deflected, keeping her eyes turned away from his deep glare, though she could still feel the heat of it resting on her. 

Day 85

Everyone, the entirety of Skaikru, had protested, but Clarke was immovable. She was returning to Arkadia, in hopes of swaying the people in favor of an alliance. 

It was just the two of them, so they could ride, cutting the trip shorter. He wanted to see his dad anyway. A tent was packed on Miller's horse, while rations and other supplies were bundled onto Clarke's. With a long distance radio courtesy of Raven, or rather Mt. Weather, More importantly, each wore a gun, sword, and Clarke knew Nathan like her carried at least a single knife. They would not be separated in the slightest. That plan was the only reason Bellamy wasn't following them. 

Traveling with Nathan Miller only was a new experience for Clarke. Even in the time before, she hadn't ever spent much time alone with him, yet he was one of her most trusted because of his actions. This time, she simply knew to trust him. Silence dominated the journey, but it was a comfortable, easy quiet that both accepted. It had been nearly two months since Skaikru had made their disastrous visit, and Nathan hadn't been on that trip, so they were navigating carefully from map, made by Lincoln after the last trip. 

“Think you can really convince them?” 

Miller's question was the first thing said in nearly an hour- they were making good time, even with breaks to rest and stretch. Clarke sighed though, and shrugged slightly. 

“They don't want to listen to us.” was her weary reply. 

“Seriously, don't leave me behind, ok? Even if you do go into the fence, let me come too.” 

“I doubt they'll try the same thing twice.” brushed off Clarke. 

“Yea, well, I don't know if Bellamy or Octavia would get to me first, but either way, I'm a dead man if anything happens to you on my watch.” 

“Nathan, they know as well as I do that there are risks everywhere, and you can't do much about some of them.” 

“Are we talking about the same Blakes? The ones who give basically identical“something worthy dying for” speeches? The ones that might as well have written together?” asked Miller dryly. 

“I don't want anyone dying for me. Certainly not you.” snapped Clarke hotly. 

He held his hands up, even with the reins in them, and nodded soothingly. 

“Yea, yea, I know, but I get what they mean, ok?” 

Just the pair of them on horseback, traveling light and quick, they crossed the day's walk sooner, arriving into the late afternoon. 

In awe of the animals they rode so confidently, Marcus Kane raked his eyes wonderingly over the girl approaching with such determination flaring around her. Her blue eyes, heavily shadowed, despite the confident set of her shoulders, flicked about cautiously. She was thinner, he was certain despite the layers she wore because of how much sharper her cheeks were. It made her look more like her mother, frankly. There was nothing else similar though, perhaps. The weeks (how many?) had not been kind, but he knew he could say the same for everyone within the walls here too. His own people were left thin and weakened, first from the outbreak, and then from the rough learning curve with hunting. 

It was a different teenage boy with a semi-auto rifle at the ready backing her up, this one, Kane was certain, was a guard's son. The old Head Guard, Miller, he was fairly certain. Abby would know for sure. Not many of the Hundred had living family. David Miller had been particularly grim about the kids being driven away the only time they'd seen them on the ground, though his son had been one of several who hadn't come to begin with. The boy's head was covered in a beanie, and he had an oddly padded, leather jacket on, with so much metal, Kane knew it wasn't Ark-issue, just as she did, though she also wore a deep blue, worn velvet cloak loose around her shoulders, partially obscuring the odd attire below. Only when the boy's dark, calm eyes hit Marcus' own steadily, did he realize that they were wearing the equivalent of riot gear for the grounders. 

Fitting, since she'd been at the center of a riot last time she'd come to visit. Beaten and knocked to the ground underfoot, when the crowd cleared, she'd actually looked like the small child Abby still believed her to be. 

Her blue eyes landed upon the pin on his collar, and she smiled slightly. 

“Chancellor Kane.” greeted the young woman firmly, and Kane nodded in greeting.

It had been nearly two months, hard, long weeks of trying to adjust to Earth, despite their drastically culled numbers, since he'd last seen her- his best friend's child. 

“Clarke, it's good to see you.” 

Her eyes flashed with a slight bit of warmth, before she titled her head meaningfully to the boy at her side. 

“This is Nathan, one of the Skaikru Advisers, alongside Wells.” she explained shortly. 

The boy just nodded in greeting silently, though Kane would have offered to shake hands had the boy's not been... occupied. 

“Welcome. Octavia, is she well? And... and her brother?” asked Marcus awkwardly. 

Clarke nodded first, before she carefully answered. 

“Octavia is doing very well. She's Skaikru's ambassador in the capital, is learining the language of Earth quickly, and is training with the heda's warriors in her free time. It suits her, and she loves Earth. Bellamy's back at our camp, managing it, and strengthening our ties to the closest Trikru village. He is a strong leader, and is making sure things run as smoothly as possible.” 

“And you?” 

“I'm fine. I go back and forth between Polis and camp, trying to keep an eye on everything.” replied Clarke smoothly. 

“That sounds wise.” agreed Marcus hesitantly. 

“We're here to talk business. If you've got a council, get it together.” blurted out Clarke bluntly. 

“We don't actually have a council anymore.” admitted Kane tiredly. “After the sweating sickness, your mother passed the pin to me, but her and Jaha could still be counselors, I suppose, but it's nothing formal anymore. There's no one else left, really.” 

Clarke barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes, glancing at Nathan wearily. 

“Jacapo Sinclair, Eric Jackson, David Miller. There's your council. Get them together in a meeting room.” suggested the girl firmly, and Kane actually smiled in amused acknowledgment. 

Marcus Kane didn't need to know yet, that should they refuse to see reason, those three men were the most important ones she intended to poach away from Arkadia. 

“Alright.” 

Kane did do as she said- assembling the three, widely different men, but he also allowed both Abby and Jaha to tag along, as well. 

“I'm here to urge you, again, to join the alliance of the commander's coalition. You will be the fourteenth clan. There is a summit for the ambassadors and leaders of all the clans in fifteen days in Polis, the capital of the coalition, and the commander's residence. You could join then.” announced Clarke, once they'd all settled around the large table. 

“We want to join.” jumped in Marcus Kane right away, despite the outright disagreement written on the faces surrounding him. To be fair, David Miller mostly looked baffled at his, and his son's, inclusion to the meeting. 

“Great.” agreed Clarke flatly, taking a deep breathe before she dropped the bomb, a fitting metaphor for this moment, she thought ironically. 

“Now that's decided, you need to know what the main purpose of the summit is. There, only the leaders, ambassadors, and most trusted advisers will be informed by the commander of a coming disaster. We have only a little more than three months to prepare for it.” informed Clarke clinically. 

The room was still, and silent, expectant, as if the elders were waiting for the punchline of a rather morbid joke. 

“They're calling it Praimfaya, but “The Deathwave” is more fitting personally.” added Nathan bluntly. 

“What?” hissed Abby Griffin in horror, the others' expressions mirroring her own.

“The mega reactors' are melting down.” explained Clarke slowly. 

The meeting went long, with flurries of questions, and demands for information, and assurances, and compromises, flying from the Arkadian side of the table, while Nathan mostly stayed silent, letting Clarke field the ridiculous barrage. Finally, as a clock face showed that it was now past ten at night, Marcus stood up, to bring the meeting to an end. 

“Please, let us be hospitable.” encouraged Marcus gently. “There are still a couple small accommodations, near the med bay-”

“The on-call rooms.” put in her mother unnecessarily. 

“You and Nathan may each have one. It's not much, but still- a bed, and a door to close, with a keypad lock.” 

Clarke glanced at Miller minutely, before returning her cool gaze to the Arkadians. 

“One room will do.” she announced flatly. 

“But-” began her mother awkwardly. 

“We will not be separated.” declared Miller calmly. 

Kane jumped in before Abby could respond again.

“Of course. Whatever makes you comfortable.” assured the chancellor. 

Clarke nodded curtly, before leading Miller off in search of said room. 

“That's not even the same boy as she was with last time!” moaned Abby anxiously.

“She's not a child, Abby, and he could just be her bodyguard. After what happened last time, she has good reason to want someone watching her back.” murmured Marcus wearily. 

Clarke entered the on-call room, A, the first unoccupied one, and Miller followed her closely, closing and securing the door instantly, before he paused at her side to glance around. Like all of Alpha station, it seemed smaller. So much smaller, cramped, and confining, than she'd ever felt it in the sky. Alpha was the most luxurious of the stations as well, and Clarke absently wondered what Factory station would feel like now. Like being squashed slowly in a too-small cage, she supposed. 

There was only the bunk, a small table attached to the wall, with a single bench in the corner, a tiny bathroom, and... it really was hardly enough room to stretch out your arms. Clarke had slept here often enough as a kid, even before she started her apprenticeship, when both of her parents had to work late or overnight. It had felt thrillingly exciting to have the space to herself then- as for as tiny as it was, it was still larger than her bedroom in their quarters, and there was a bathroom of it's own, with a laundry station even. 

“I can sleep on the floor.” announced Miller easily, dropping his pack and gun by the door. 

“Or we can share the bunk.” offered Clarke. 

They eyed the bunk- it was actually a double, meant to be restful for the doctors who got stuck here, and the mattress was what they'd both grown up with, Alpha's standard issue twelve inches. All of them were ancient and many-times repaired, with a slight smell mixed of sweat and cleaning spray. It took up half the room, with built-in drawers above and below. 

After three months on Earth, splitting her time between tents and the shared open space of the dropship, it seemed absurdly luxurious to Clarke. Nathan had spent most of the time in Polis, though, and to him, it mostly seemed oddly sterile- no furs, no lumpy, but soft pallets made of skins stuffed with wool. Thankfully they'd brought a fur each, because after so long, neither was sure they wanted to try sleeping with only the scratchy, worn sheets and thread barne blanket. The pillows, flattened and limp from many years of use, looked welcoming though. The Ark, never warm, was even colder than they remembered, and they'd be glad of each other's body heat through the night. 

“Okay.” agreed Nathan. 

They went to sleep, laying with their backs to each other, pressed lightly together due to the snug space, listening to the even breathing of the other, absently missing the machine hum that had always lulled them to sleep in these walls. 

 

Day 86, Arkadia 

“Anya's right.” muttered Clarke groggily as she shifted around uncertainly, but neither was completely shocked to wake all tangled up, Clarke's resting on Nathan's defined bare chest, legs and arms thrown over each other. . “We sleep like puppies.” 

“Long as we're warm, they can call us whatever animal they want to.” grumbled Nathan, tightening his hold on her, keeping her snug and warm above him like a living electric blanket without even opening his eyes. 

“Do you and Wells sleep together in Polis?” asked Clarke curiously.

Nathan opened one eye to squint at her. 

“That would be awkward. I'd rather be cold than deal with him wondering if he was being hit on.” muttered the younger of the pair. 

She snorted. He shrugged vaguely, jostling her a bit. 

“I sleep with Octavia a lot.” he offered agreeably. 

Wishing the showers were working, Clarke and Nathan quickly readied for the day, repacking their belongings neatly to carry around with them, except for the bulky furs. 

After breakfast, as Clarke and Nathan made to leave the mess area, her mother intercepted them eagerly. 

“Clarke, could you help Jackson in the medbay?” asked her mother.

Aware of the obvious scheming apparent in this request, Clarke was still willing to go along with it since she wanted a chance to talk with Jackson more anyway. 

Nathan flatly ignored the suggestion that he spend time with his father, and followed her quietly back to the med bay. It was lucky, perhaps, that of all the stations to be lost, that Alpha, with it's surplus of space and amenities was the one that survived. The Alpha med bay had been the biggest of all the Ark. 

There was only a single patient in the med bay when they arrived, and Jackson had sent them out quickly. Before Clarke even got to bring up anything, the door opened again, and to her surprise, Gina Martin came, practically skipping, into the clinic, with a little girl by the hand. Behind the notably cheerful pair trailed, reluctantly, a pair of rather sullen kids, a bit older than the first. 

“Hey Eric!” greeted Gina brightly. “Dr. G asked for me to bring them by early. Hope you don't mind!” 

Jackson glanced towards Clarke as if he'd suspected she was looking for a chance to talk, and shrugged minutely, getting an understanding grimace from the blonde that could pass for a smile. 

“It's fine. Oh, Clarke, this is Gina Martin, Lyra Kuang, Reese Lemkin, and Orion Fedorov. Kids, this is Apprentice Griffin, and umm... Nathan Miller.” introduced Jackson, kindly, though a bit awkwardly, looking between the odd gathering uncertainly. 

“Hi, we're the orphans.” added the older girl sarcastically, hovering close to the boy's side, and sneering rather impressively for a perhaps nine year old. 

Nathan's eyebrows shot up, and Gina and Eric both looked embarrassed, but Clarke didn't notice any of them because her eyes stayed on the kids. The boy, Orion according to Jackson, looked somewhere between annoyed and amused, but the younger girl's cheerful countenance had plummeted at the words. 

Meeting Reese's eyes, Clarke smiled very so slightly. 

“Well-met, then, I suppose, little orphans. My clan's mostly orphans too.” offered the blonde, keeping any sympathy, or even empathy, out of her tone. 

Reese's face seemed to brighten ever so, in interest, and Clarke realized there was something going on with the girl's eyes, one didn't focus at all, and other seemed to struggle to. 

“Seriously?” asked the boy instead, though, eyeing Clarke and Nathan both, skeptically. 

“Oh yea. Me, Wells Jaha, and Octavia Blake are the only ones who've got a dad left, and Clarke's the only one who's mom is still alive. The rest of the Hundred are actually orphans.” 

Though the older girl kept up her sarcastic comments, Gina quickly settled the three on a bed of their own, and Jackson went down the short line of them, starting with Lyra, who held onto Gina's hand for most of it. The youngest was apparently in good health, and soon Jackson dismissed her, urging Gina to bring her out now, promising to make sure the others made it back to a caregiver once they were done. 

Reese seemed to brighten up even more once they'd left, and was running her mouth a mile a minute, while the boy seemed quieter, but less sharp edged too. 

“So do people actually call you guys “the orphans”?” asked Miller lightly, while Jackson was doing a quick check-up of the boy, who apparently had mild asthma since the sweating sickness, or falling to Earth, they weren't sure what had triggered it. 

The boy nodded, even as Jackson was listening to his breathing, but Reese smirked. 

“Oh, yea, But usually it's “the poor orphans.” she corrected. 

“Lovely.” remarked Clarke, though she was observing Jackson's careful, slow assessment. 

“Eh, what's worse, is there is like no other kids really, but we can't even hang out with the most of them because we always get stuck with Lyra, and Ethan.” 

Ethan Hardy, remembered Clarke thoughtfully. He'd ended up in Theolonious' well-meaning, but perhaps dubious care, after the final culling when his father, Geoff, had been removed from Second Dawn. He was only five years old, the youngest surviving child that was born in space. 

“Why can't you play with the older kids? There's a few closer to your age, right?” asked Clarke smoothly. 

“Because we're “fragile”.” snarked Reese in annoyance. 

“Between my asthma, and Reese's eyes, they think we need to stay with a babysitter all the time instead of hang out with the kids.” explained Orion, with a mildly exasperated look to his face, even as he ignored Jackson's stethoscope moving across his back in turn. 

“Reese has zero vision in her right eye, and we've estimated about 60% in her left due to the decreased oxygen levels before we came down. Orion's asthma is honestly very mild I believe, but it's not something we've ever dealt with before....” explained Jackson in an undertone. 

“So we get stuck with Martin and the babies.” complained Reese, kicking her feet restlessly as they dangled from the bed, her face turned up to the ceiling, away from the small audience watching her. 

“Gina's nice enough.” placated Orion listlessly, as if repeating something for the hundredth time, losing his conviction along the way. 

“Better than Mr. Hardy.” acknowledged Reese blithely. 

Clarke met Nathan's eyes, wondering if there was anything they could do for these kids, not noticing how Jackson watched their interaction.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two chapters left after this for Part I- which will cover up to Day 100. Part II will cover from there until the Death Wave. I'm not sure if I'll add Part II onto this story, or start a new fic for it though. Any preferences, let me know. However, I'm going to be going back to fix some of the mistakes of Part I before I start posting Part II. 
> 
> As always, if you notice any mistakes, or if there's anything you would like to see more (or less) of, review!

Day 87

Mount Weather 

In the main control room of Mount Weather, Raven, Monty, Jasper, and Wick took a break, their “grunts”, as Raven cheerfully called the handful of hopeful-apprentices they'd picked at Clarke's suggestion, still at work, currently dissembling the cages of the harvest chamber. The entire room was to be made into an outpost of Argo, as there was more than enough room in medical to ignore that whole space, according to Clarke. 

“This place is a fucking nightmare, but you know, it's damn nice.” announced Raven as she spun in rapid rotations in a worn, but obviously once-luxurious leather office chair. 

“Beats the Ark.” agreed Monty hesitantly. 

“Not even Alpha was anywhere as nice as this.” offered Wick easily. 

“If we've got to spend another five damn years locked inside a metal box, least it's a comfortable one.” joked Jasper. 

Hundred Camp 

Bellamy stood at the center of the camp, watching as the mid-day meal break wound to a close, he slowly went through a mental checklist of his people. Skaikru, he mused. There was a group out hunting, and another out fetching ever more water, he'd never realized how much water humans required before they came down to Earth and had it carry it themselves. Then there was a group at Mt. Weather, spending their days there, doing Earth knows what, supposedly on Clarke's orders, and always his sister gone, in Polis, with a few others, and now Clarke and Miller off at thrice-damned Arkadia.... too far from his reach to look out for. He wasn't so sure of the idea of leaving their camp unsupervised to go to Polis, but the chance to see the city where his sister, and Clarke, kept disappearing too, was too enticing. 

Hundred Camp just didn't feel right to him, not with so many of their number away. He groaned, wondering how he'd gotten so invested, it was only ever supposed to be Octavia and him. 

In a flurry of hurried steps and fast-paced chatter, the gates swung open, admitting the hunting party, with Zoe at the lead. Short, and pretty, it was always a thrill to see her, blood flecking her clothes, eyes bright with success, looking like some mythical descendant of Diana, wild and free. Watching her, helping carry in the bounty of their hunt, bow and quiver slung over her back, Bellamy forgot that he'd been questioning how he'd gotten so tangled up in caring about so many people. 

 

Arkadia 

Once again cornered by her mother, with Nathan cringing awkwardly at her side, Clarke's nails digging into his forearm to keep him for moving even slightly away. 

Not that Dr. Abigail Griffin, Chief Medical Officer, and Counselor could be bothered to notice just how little her daughter was appreciating such ambushes every time she left the relative safety of the worktable she'd arranged in the med bay. 

“Letting you go to Earth was the hardest thing I've ever done.” implored her mother, leaning as close as she could, because every time she moved closer, Clarke pressed herself even harder against the metal wall of Alpha station. 

“There is too much for me to do.” murmured Clarke impatiently, feeling increasingly frustrated with her mother's pitifully emotional pleas, even as she was regretful that she couldn't just... give in, to Abby's longing. 

“You're my daughter. You belong here, with me.” 

“I'm sorry, but I don't feel the same way.” 

Abby's face crumbled past pleading, into the deep ridges of despair, and her shoulders hunched in. The cruelty of hurting such an easily broken target sent spirals of self-hatred swirling through Clarke, but she stiffened her spine, and with the hand not clinging tightly to the silent support of Nate Miller, pushed her mother back with a firm, slow shove. Stepping around Abby, Clarke hurried away, Nate keeping time with her strides easily. 

“This is your home!” cried Abby at their backs. 

It wouldn't have done any good to remind her mother that she was dragged, handcuffed, from her home, to be thrown first into the Skybox on Go-Sci, and then to Earth. Nor that the very place she landed, at the Ark's doing, was the place she now called home. She'd already said it too many times. 

Nate's wrist flexed in her grasp, and she instinctively released it. Instead he slid his hand around her, squeezing lightly. It had been his home too, after all. He knew this as no one could. Not even Wells, who'd plotted for his arrest and drop. Being here didn't feel right anymore. There was a churning of anxiety in her gut, and a tug at her soul- pulling her home to Hundred Camp. 

“Leaving soon, right?” asked Nate quietly as they hurried off. 

She nodded quickly. “Yeah. Gotta wait for Trikru to get here and introduce them to Kane, but yeah, it's time to get out of here.” 

Day 88 

Late morning, Arkadia 

“What's the diagnosis?” 

Clarke's question, lowly asked, came even as she steadily worked on the notes, and she looked only for a brief moment to meet Jackson's eyes. The young doctor hesitated, glancing between her and the uninterested boy at her side. The med bay was still and quiet except for the quiet sounds of collaborative study- pens scratched, pages turned, and their voices, low, and intent, as they hustled to pack in as much as they could. 

Stiffly, Nathan Miller was likewise making notes, though while Clarke's were from her own memory, to leave with Arkadia, he was combining Jackson's dictation with the knowledge he was skimming carefully from the books, files, and tablet scattered around the tables that had been brought in for them. The three of them had been cloistered in the med bay, working on this exchange on information, for as much as possible the last few days. Too often, Kane, her mother, Sinclair, even David Miller and Jaha, had all been hovering around, asking questions, which Clarke was mainly answering in written form at this point, so aggravated with their repetitive, disbelieving queries. 

They hadn't been sleeping well here, even together, with dreams plaguing Nathan, making him wake up over and over. He didn't want to talk about it, and Clarke figured being back here in Alpha's walls was too triggering, and for her... there was just still so much to be done, but every time she tried to meet with Jackson, or Kane, or Sinclair, her mother was there, trying to chat. Only in their little cubicle-style quarters did they have some space from her mother's overbearing concern. Once, Clarke had even seen Kane passing by the med bay, rushed to him, and grabbed his sleeve, dragging him into their temp room to talk about the upcoming summit without her mother, or Theolonious around. To be fair, Marcus had gone along it, confused and blinking, but not even flinching when Nate had quickly shut the door behind them. They'd actually gotten two hours of conference, then, until Marcus had regretfully pointed out that people would be looking for them at lunch. They'd even managed to teach him a few words and phrases of the grounders' language, which he'd picked up easily. Of course, this was man who'd expected to live his entire life in a confined society that had one official language, English, yet had learned Russian anyway. 

Deciding to forgo patient confidentiality, since Nathan had literally not left Clarke's side for even a minute since they arrived, Jackson sighed. The patient in question, the oldest man left at Arkadia, was sleeping fitfully in the medbay, far from their table, mostly left alone. 

“Spyros Himura. Stage IV lung cancer. We don't know if it was missed on the Ark, or began here on the ground, but it was only stage III when we diagnoses him a month ago. He came in with excessive fatigue, and a lot of chest pressure.” admitted Jackson quietly, his eyes back on the book between him and Miller, he pointed out an important line- regarding labor and birth emergencies- that the boy had missed. 

Nathan's eyes flicked from the notebook he was uncertainty filling for Clarke, to the old man. With a tug at her heart, Clarke remembered hearing about the head guard's wife dying of breast cancer a few years ago. Jackson remembered her as one of the first cancer patients he'd ever assisted with as an apprentice. 

She didn't ask what the treatment plan was. If not for praimfaya, she would have instantly. She would have asked the grounders, beginning with Nyko, for advice. She would have searched the Earth for a cure, or at least a way to slow it down. But a man in his late 50's wasn't going to be chosen for a hundred spots anyway. Personally, Clarke thought that forty-six year old Thelonious, who had no critical knowledge, was pushing it. 

“Do you have enough supplies to keep him comfortable?” she asked instead, and Nathan's breathe came out in a harder rush. 

Jackson nodded. “He's the only terminal patient we have, so keeping up with his... needs shouldn't be a concern.” 

“What's the current population here anyway?” asked Nathan curiously, speaking for the first time in at least an hour, thought Jackson. 

“148.” 

Clarke failed to repress a shiver that swept down her spine. One hundred and ninety-four Arkadians, from the survivors of Alpha and Mecha stations, had died in the sweating sickness. Why Arkadia had such a higher fatality rate, she didn't know, and didn't have time to figure out. Dehydration had possibly been a factor, though. 

“The low number will at least... make decisions easier.” murmured Clarke, her hand pausing briefly, before she continued on- now emphasizing Lexa's orders, and her own recommendations, on choosing the 100 Arkadian survivors. Still, Farm Station was out there somewhere presumably, and who knows how many of those 185 would survive long enough to make it here to Arkadia... Only 63 had before, but things could have totally changed... Perhaps none would. 

Jackson flinched openly, looking away from the spread of books, tablets, files, and notes. 

“You know what's coming. If Arkadia does not join us, there will be thirteen hundred people, not a single doctor, and I'm the only Ark-trained medic. We need you.” implored Clarke, finally setting her pen down to gaze at him. 

Abby Griffin only took on the best of medical apprentices. There weren't many on the Ark to begin with, but she'd only taken on three in her career- two of them being Eric Jackson, and her own daughter. Just four years older than her, Jackson was a prodigy, far more than herself, believed Clarke. He'd flown through training, exams, and quickly became her mother's right-hand. 

“Kane has agreed to do this, Clarke. Why are you worried about us not joining the rest?” asked Jackson uncertainty, keeping his voice low, and continuing to point out relevant info in the spread of media in front of the dutiful, bored, Nathan. 

“Because Jaha and my mother aren't happy, and the three of them have some weird, co-dependent form of tug-of-war going on.” blurted out Clarke impatiently. At her side, Nathan's hand froze and he snorted in amusement. She rolled her eyes at him, and kept on pushing at Jackson's resolve. 

“I am hoping that you, Sinclair, and David will be able to convince them, but if not... the three of you would be the difference between life or death for hundreds of people.” 

Jackson tried to point out that they, especially he and Sinclair, would be needed here, but Clarke cut him off firmly. 

“My mother could easily manage the one hundred people this station could sustain, and there are two other engineers, and a mechanic here, aren't there?” 

Dr. Eric Jackson eyed the eighteen year old girl in front of him, and remembered catching her as she fell into sedated oblivion. He'd wanted, from the very moment he'd done it, to make it up to her. She was a legal adult, a patient, making her wishes clear, and he'd followed the orders to sedate her anyway. It wasn't the first time Abby had instructed him to go against his conscious, but it'd been the first time he'd done so but regretted it anyway. 

“Half the population will be under sixteen. That's around six hundred and fifty children, and not a single doctor. There will be plenty of healers, who can assist from the beginning, they are amazing in their skills, and can be taught how to use the medbay to it's full potential. But their medicine is limited to herbalism, there is virtually no surgical knowledge, and treatment of major and low-term illness is extremely limited, mostly to palliative care. There will be some Skaikru to help with adjusting to everything. If there is anyone you want to come with you, there is still a chance for that too. 

“Yes.” breathed out Jackson impulsively, worn down by her pleas. “Okay, yes.” he agreed again, his eyes lowering to the table between them. “If Arkadia backs out of the deal, I'll go with you. But your mother will want to be with you. I'm sure we can keep us all together.” 

It was... conniving, and manipulative, to steal away one of Arkadia's few doctors, one of her mother's few confidants. Abby would see it as nothing less than betrayal, on both their parts. Not that Clarke was going to let that stop her. Worse, she was already confident that Sinclair would come too, easily defecting to a the promise of a larger, already proven bunker, and David Miller had merely nodded in immediate, silent agreement, ready to defect at a moment's notice to be with his son. 

“Gina Martin. She's been starting to assist, just washing up kind of stuff, in the med bay. Might make a good medic, at least, but has no training yet. She... might be interested in coming too.” murmured Jackson hesitantly. 

“Don't ask her yet, but be feeling her out on the possibility. If she is open to living with the other clans, she's welcome. I will save a spot for her, till we know what's happening. Skaikru has 100 spots, same as the rest, but we actually have less than that to begin with currently.” instructed Clarke. 

“Thirteen hundred patients would be a massive caseload for even four doctors.” pointed out Jackson, beginning to stack up the files Nathan had finished copying from. 

“There will be numerous healers because all the clans are bringing their own, and you'll be able to pick apprentices to train as well. It will take delegation, and adaptability, but it can work. ” assured Clarke. 

She shook out her hand painfully, the days of swift, near constant writing having given her aching cramps, no longer used to holding a pen much. Nathan blew carefully over the paper he'd completed, and looked to her for more orders, but she smiled tiredly. 

“That's it, right?” she asked Jackson instead, and he nodded slowly. There was always more that could be learned, but they were out of time, really. He and Nathan had gone through a massive amount of information in the past few days- quite a bit of it on pregnancy, labor, and birth, but also covering what Clarke knew was her greatest weakness in medical knowledge- surgery. With Mount Weather now theirs to make use of, she had the facilities, and supplies, for a greater standard of care, but she was still a medic, perhaps a healer, but not a doctor, for Earth's sake. Miller didn't actually know which was up with any of the info he'd committed to the notebook in front of him, but Clarke knew that Jackson had ensured that as much as possible would be coming home with them. 

They all stood, and stretched automatically, working out the stiffness from their morning-long session at the table. When the med bay doors opened, Jackson flinched guilty as Abby hustled inside to join them.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22 

Day 88, continued, Arkadia Med Bay 

“We need to talk about-” began her mother firmly, but Clarke sighed, shaking her head. 

“We haven't even stopped to eat yet today. We're taking a break.” countered the younger Griffin tiredly, looking straight into her mother's stubborn, yet pleading, gaze. 

“You're not taking care of yourself.” accused Abby worriedly.

“Lunch.” reminded Nathan curtly. 

“Theolonious wants-” tried Abby again, but Clarke silently sidestepped her mother, expecting Jackson to step out of the way. 

Instead he tentatively hugged Clarke, and tried to be discrete as he whispered something to her, too low for even Nathan to overhear. When they parted, quickly, she smiled at Jackson, warmly, hopefully, before leading Nathan from the med bay, hoping to have a chance for something to eat for lunch before Trikru arrived. She'd decided they should be waiting at the gates if possible. 

With the doors hardly closed behind her daughter, and Clarke's latest guard dog, Abby rounded on Jackson. 

“What is going on with my daughter?” demanded Abby. 

Jackson avoided her eyes. 

“Things are different down here.” demurred the younger doctor. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Clarke... she would have made a great doctor, but she's turning into a good leader.” 

“She's just a kid! This is ridiculous! How are we supposed to prepare for anything being separated like this?” 

Jackson sighed, moving away from her, to busy himself cleaning up the already neat med bay. 

“She's not a kid anymore, Abby. Probably none of them are. They're running their own settlement just fine. Better than us I'd guess considering how they looked at our work here.” 

Marching quickly through the corridors, the Skaikru pair was hoping to avoid anyone else trying to come between them and actually having something in their stomachs. 

“Jaha's been trying to catch you away from Kane since we got here.” muttered Nathan. 

Clarke nodded, thinking it over, but ultimately shrugged. 

“Honestly, I'm not sure what that could be about, but I'm pretty sure we don't want to deal with it.” she finally explained uncertainty. 

It was odd for them both, mused Nathan, walking the halls they'd grown up again. They'd talked of visiting the quarters they'd grown up in, both now reassigned they'd learned, with their respective surviving parents apparently having opted for smaller units rather the two-bedroom family units they'd lived in before the fall. Half-way between the med bay and the mess hall, Marcus Kane came hurrying towards them, obviously having been trying to find Clarke. 

“If you want something, you gotta talk while we eat.” barked Nathan at the most recent chancellor, not letting up on his pace, and taking a hold of Clarke's wrist to tug at her when she'd automatically paused at Kane's approach. 

To their mutual surprise, the older man just nodded his agreement, and fell into step on Clarke's other side, before he began his quiet, swift, and urgent interrogation- this time, on grounder politics. 

With Miller at her side, as always, Clarke tried to prepare Kane for the summit. 

“Trikru is Skaikru's closest ally. They will escort you to the commander's headquarters. It must be you to take the brand, and the coalition will not acknowledge the council at all. You need to select an ambassador before you arrive. Not a leader. Calm, humble, willing to learn, and be diplomatic. Every clan except Skaikru is several times Arkadia's size, and has a century of history.” 

“And Octavia stays in Polis, correct?” asked Marcus as he sat there, slumped in his chair, fiddling with a pen absently. 

“Yes. Nathan and Wells do too. Nathan only stayed with me to come here.” 

A tall, thin guard, perhaps Bellamy's age, hustled over, with his face flushed and eyes wide, with news that Trikru had arrived. Clarke smiled in relief, while Kane frowned thoughtfully, immediately rising to greet them, escorting the younger leader with him. 

Between Nate and Kane, Clarke walked, her eyes sweeping around her unconsciously. The open yard leading to the front gate of Arkadia seemed to hold nearly ever resident there was. It seemed like things came to a standstill whenever she and Nate were in sight, all eyes falling onto them. The sharp gazes sticking to them weren't particularly friendly either. Yet neither Clarke nor Nate were sure of what they'd done to garner Arkadia's disdain. Even as unpleasant as these survivors were, Clarke couldn't stop pity from welling up when she noticed the differences between the Arkadia that lived now only in memories, and this pitifully smaller version. Hardly more populated than Hundred Camp, and with none of the stubborn, companionable vitality. These people, staying strictly within their wall, and trying to eek out a life living within Alpha station, did not even seem to realize they were on the ground. It wouldn't matter in the end, how many of them died before Praimfaya, but still, it hurt to see them doing so much worse this time. 

Pitiful or not, there was only one person within the walls right now that she trusted, and it was Nate, hovering defensively close, feeling the weight of Arkadia's mistrust like a burden across his shoulders. They'd stayed so close their entire trip, that David Miller had awkwardly hinted at curiosity about their relationship. Nate, so close his arm overlapped hers, had kept his face blank, and ignored the implications. 

Perhaps Kane, mused Clarke, maybe she trusted him. He'd been a staunch allies numerous times, in the life before, but she never was sure where she stood with him. As if he too had noticed the camp's feelings toward her and Nate, Marcus Kane was hovering close as well, his hand firmly on her back, guiding, supporting, her. Even Abby was shying away, with Kane shielding her, it seemed. The tortured look in her mother's eyes made Clarke suspect she was picturing not Marcus Kane, but Jake Griffin, escorting Clarke around proudly. After all, it was just the same way that her father had always walked with her through Alpha, Go-Sci, and when he'd sometimes bring her along on trips to other stations. Idly, not bothering to step out of Kane's reach, Clarke wondered if he too was remembering that. After all, they had been friends. Now Kane was left with no one from his life in space- where he'd floated his best friend and a long-since former girlfriend who'd turned out to be the mother of his unknown daughter, then his long-time girlfriend, and finally, his mother dying in the Unity Day rebellion. Here on the ground, there was Abby, who'd always hated now yet now was oddly dependent on him, Theolonious who would always been half-friend, half-rival, it seemed, and Octavia, who was close enough to grown even by Ark standards, and a woman in her own right here on Earth, and so very unlikely to ever have anything to do with him outside of politics. Then there was Clarke, a link to many of the people he'd ever given a damn about. 

If matters inside Arkadia were tense, introducing Marcus Kane to Caliban kom Trikru was staggeringly awkward. The gruff warrior eyed Kane's arm, wrapped around Clarke still, like he'd be pleased to remove it- from the owner's body, as well as Clarke's. A bit of conversation with Nate, in the dark of night in their shared quarters, came back to Clarke- for all of the jokes the Skaikru, and Arkadia, had ever made about the primitiveness of Earth, their society was rather feminist- women, in the land ruled by a girl who'd come to her throne by combat at the age of fourteen, with war chiefs and village leaders just as likely to be female, girls were not seen as playthings, and men who dared to treat them as such often died painfully. Not even the Ark had come so far from their mutual sexist history of pre-Catalyst Earth. Though it was certainly notably improved, there were still uneven ratios all across their society, at least before the fall. Though sex-based abortion was looked down upon, there had still been more female embryos aborted than males, even among couples without a child already. 

“Marcus is Arkadia's leader, and was a friend of my father's.” announced Clarke, once the official introduction was out of the way, Kane clasping hands in greeting as Nate had taught him, though Caliban's grip had been painfully harsh. 

“I am very glad to meet allies of Clarke's,” added Kane smoothly, also picking up the tension, though he wasn't sure of why. 

“Wanheda has the loyalty of all Trikru.” grunted Caliban harshly. 

Kane nodded, as if he couldn't detect the thick threat in those growled words. “Good.”

“Caliban and his men will be waiting here, until you are ready to leave for Polis. It's going to be a long walk, so pack well, but light. You will need to make camp at least twice, and you must remember not to bring weapons into Polis.” explained Clarke. 

 

Day 89 

Opening their door to head to the mess, Clarke frowned, and Nathan openly scowled, to find Theolonious Jaha boldly waiting just outside their doorway. 

“Um, good morning?” offered Clarke hesitantly. 

The former chancellor, who'd once been perhaps like an uncle to her, if the Ark had had such relationships, loomed over her enough for her teeth to sink into her bottom lip uneasily. 

“Clarke! I've been looking for a chance to speak with you, privately. If young Miller here is heading to breakfast, then now is the perfect chance-” 

“We are heading to breakfast actually.” corrected Clarke politely. 

Giving up on getting rid of the obviously determined former chancellor, Clarke grudgingly invited him into their quarters, with Nathan pointedly remaining. 

“It's simple. We are the only ones capable of operating a bunker, we should claim it for ourselves, and take in only young grounders- whom we can raise up well. Perhaps others, with useful skills, whom are willing to get along.” summarized Theolonious somberly. 

The former chancellor had not anticipated their aggressive reactions apparently. As Nathan grunted, managing to hold his tongue but only barely, while Clarke shook her head roughly, Jaha's eyes widened in surprise. He opened his mouth to press on, but she cut him off sharply.

“No. We're not even discussing this. Not an option. They are people, with just as much reason to live as us.” declared Clarke, trying to forget the days where she'd schemed with this man. 

“Now, don't be unreasonable, surely you must see that we can't pick who is to die from our own people when there are so few of us left anyway-” 

“No! You floated my father! You don't get to call me unreasonable. Arkadia will have 100 spots, same as every other clan. Most of the clans will be leaving thousands of their own people- children, healers, crafters, warriors, good men, strong women... to die. Arkadia will choice, or die.” 

Her words roared with the end of her patience, because she knew that if he stuck to this idea, it would only end in more bloodshed and unneeded suffering. 

“I know you better than this- you can not possibly be willing to leave your own people to die when they could be saved.”

“You haven't even asked Wells since we got here.” 

At her words, his eyes narrowed sharply, but only for a span of a single heartbeat. Smoothing his expression out, into the placid composure Clarke knew as his politicians' mask, he inclined his head towards her pointedly. 

“It has not been very long since I was last updated on Wells' status. I trust that you will inform me as needed of any pertinent developments.” 

Breakfast was an unpleasant affair, eaten in a conference room, still being interrogated under the guise of a polite meeting, about the coming summit, and the grounders' way of life as a whole. Neither David Miller nor Eric Jackson were at all comfortable being included. Theolonious and Abby were desperately throwing question after demand. Sinclair and Kane were somewhere in the middle, trying to get information as much as possible with Clarke and Nate's departure looming, but not so callously urgent to be spitting out question after question. 

Clarke finally lost her temper after trying to explain the principle law of Earth- “Blood must have blood.” for what was easily the twentieth time. 

“It's no damn different than floating people left and right! On the Ark, everything was a capital crime. Here, it's only an eye for an eye at least. Thieves and dissents both live, so long as they do not do physical harm.” cried the younger leader angrily, leaning forwards till she was pressing against the table. 

“This is Earth. Get used to it. Worry a hell of a lot more about Praimfaya than about the laws.” barked out Nate in support, when they began to close their mouths and come up with another argument to throw at Clarke. 

“There are only a hundred and fifty of you now, against hundreds of thousands grounders. After the Death Wave, there will be only a hundred of you, and twelve hundred grounders. Adapt. If Skaikru can, so can Arkadia.” snapped Clarke. 

“Blood must have blood. Is that law the reason they have christened you as Wanheda?” asked Theolonious lightly, his dark eyes bright with intrigue, and Clarke felt the world still in the silence after his query. 

Her mother's face was curious, and so unsuspecting. She sat up more upright, looking around at them.

“Wanheda? What does that mean?” asked Abby quickly. 

Clarke stared at Theolonious flatly, lips pursed, acknowledging his deft jab at her, revealing such a thing, which he must have overheard some from the grounders camping outside of the wall, to her perpetually overbearing mother. 

“Commander of Death.” replied Nathan without an ounce of apology... dropping the bomb that Theolonious had lobbed into the middle of the room. 

Seated between Theolonious and Marcus, Abby fell back into his chair, sucking in a shocked gasp. 

“They see Clarke as a leader among leaders, a warrior who will not stop, who does not fear her own death. A symbol of the power of Skaikru.” 

Not quite a lie, but certainly not the truth. At least, in this, she does not have the deaths of three hundred Trikru warriors burned alive in a ring of fire on her conscience. For all she told those who hated her for it that the warriors had taken their own lives by attacking her people, she'd never forgotten the horror of the drop ship's door lowering into a graveyard. At least she doesn't have to see her mother's horror at that act of survival. This time. As if the memory of it before doesn't haunt her even now. 

“Why the commander of death?” asked Marcus delicately, his stressing of the final word making it clear which part of the title concerned him so. As if any one in the room could have been uncertain. 

“Because when a hunting party, and my apprentice, were taken hostage, I killed hundreds of people to get them back. People that have been kidnapping, torturing, and killing others for decades.” said Clarke wearily, as she tried to think of how best to explain the horrors of the mountain, and the genocide of it's people, briefly. 

In a voice that sounded so flat, so hollow, so terribly like it could be coming from the a ghost, Marcus was not the only one to feel shivers down his spine as she continued. Only the one who regretted his own questioning of the girl turned rebel leader. Telling the story of Mount Weather drained the fire from her bloodshot eyes, and the hope from her face. Only the iron of her will was left holding her up stiffly in her chair.

Eric Jackson's mouth fell open, as he tried to hastily suck in enough air to fight the rising urge to flee, or give in to the blackness that threatened to overtake him. 

David Miller bowed his head, taking in the story, and the sight of his son, his boy, the one he'd had such hopes for, sitting stiffly through the telling, knowing he'd played so role in this, even if only by supporting the Griffin girl. 

Marcus Kane's eyes grew blurry from the combination of the traumatized girl, her horrible tale of, and her heartbroken mother. His eyes slid shut, weighed down by the burdens Earth was laying on them all.

Her mother cried. Wilting, she laid her head upon the table, with her shoulders shaking in quiet sobs. 

Unrepentant, Theolonious Jaha listened to the girl he'd known from her birth, the girl he'd believed for many years to one day be his own daughter-in-law, describe just why the grounders respected, and feared her. Where was his son, when Clarke was taking on a fortress with only a handful of people at her command? Clarke had been included on the dropship as a medic, and Wells as a leader, yet somehow, she'd become both. 

“We cremated the dead on pyres, as tradition is here on Earth, except for our own, which we buried at home with the rest of our lost. Now Trikru, which has lost thousands of it's people to the mountain, guards the the mountain to ensure nothing ever like that happens again.” finished Clarke hoarsely. Her throat protested the ceaseless explanations of the past days. 

“You have become a leader since landing. I am proud of you.” murmured Theolonious, his eyes fixed intently upon her as they had been ever since he'd brought up the infamous title. She continued to ignore his gaze, but a shudder passed through her when his words hit. 

“Theolonious!” exclaimed Abby with a choked breathe, lifting her head quickly to glare at the man beside her in disbelief. 

“There were hard decisions to make, with her people looking to her. She vindicated the belief they had in her.” explained the former chancellor, flicking his gaze to his long-time friend calmly. 

“I'm sorry you were put in that position.” whispered Marcus, ignoring the exchange between Abby and Theolonious to watch Clarke's ever hardening expression as she took in their reactions to her victory, and sin. 

“I didn't ask for this. Any of it. But I will do whatever it takes.” returned Clarke sharply, flinching when her mother turned her pained eyes onto her, and looking away. Staring at the moment for a beat, she shook her head roughly. 

“This is Earth. We have crashed into a functioning society, and they will not tolerate anyone acting like colonizing pilgrims come to claim the land as their own. Accept this. Deal with it. Or you will all die.” warned the younger leader finally, then storming from the room, sick of their incessant questions, and inability to understand. 

This is Earth, and the Ark's way of life is dead. 

With her blood pumping so hard in her aggravation, she did not hear Nathan's parting words to the makeshift council, and just moments later, he'd caught up to her with a quick jog. By silent agreement,   
they retreated to the room they'd been staying in, to do a final check to be sure they weren't forgetting anything. 

On the bunk, on top of their furs, was something they definitely hadn't brought with them. Clarke darted across the room, and took the massive, nearly ancient book into her hands. She couldn't stifle her quick intake of breathe, and excitement, though Nathan was watching her in confusion. The seven-hundred page book, brought by to space by an American NASA physician, was the 16th edition of Zollinger's Atlas of Surgical Operations. Both the Ark and Mount Weather relied primarily on electronic formats, and both had lost horrifying amounts of their hoard of files over the past century due to various updates, system crashes, and the like. Doctors had too often had to recreate the files from memory, and hard only really bothered to do so about situations they actually came across. This was like a dream of another world, knowledge she could carry with her. It had to be a gift from Jackson, Clarke decided, because her mother wouldn't give her something to bring with her away from Arkadia, and no one else would really know how much she'd treasure it. Eric, though, knew that Clarke's most pressing lack of knowledge here on Earth was surgical, and he'd always offered her knowledge generously. 

David Miller this time was the one waiting for them just outside the door, and walked them out quietly, exchanging few words of parting, but offering his company as long as he could. The farewell party was smaller than the one that had seen them off in the gray light of pre-dawn at home. It was a surprise, though, to see a mildly harassed looking Gina Martin, holding little Lyra, beaming eagerly, waiting near a much less pleased pair, Reese, holding tightly to Orion's hand. Kane seemed extremely uncomfortable with the company waiting by him, though he didn't move away. 

“You're really leaving?” asked Reese angrily, her face screwed up in a scowl, and eyes squinted as if she was trying very intently to focus upon Clarke.

Leaving Nathan's side, Clarke moved closer, to stand just in front of the displeased child. 

“Yea, I've got to get back to my camp. I'm going to try to come back for another visit soon if I can.” confessed Clarke awkwardly, clasping her hands in front of her. Orion shrugged a bit, looking away, not as unhappy about the news as Reese, but obviously put out at least on her behalf. 

“I'm blind, not stupid.” muttered Reese. “I know that means you're not really coming back.” 

Cringing, Clarke wanted to assurance the kid that she would be back, but figuring it could too easily be a lie... 

“Seriously, kid, we might not, but unless something really crappy happens, we'll be back within a few weeks.” interjected Nathan, moving closer as well, and offering his fist to bump for Orion, who quickly responded. 

“Crappy stuff happens a lot.” pointed out Reese, looking sideways in annoyance even as she tightened her grip on Orion's hand at the movement he'd made unexpectedly. 

“Yea, but that means we get better at dealing with it and getting our shit done anyway.” assured Nathan, outright ignoring Gina's pointed look of disapproval at the slip of his tongue in front of the kids. As if the Factory kids hadn't heard much worse before, thought Nathan dryly. 

Reese offered a one-sided shrug, and Clarke hoped it meant she was somewhat appeased at least. It was awful to walk away, knowing the kid was unhappy, and there wasn't anything to do about it. From the way the boy at her side was hesitating to leave, Nathan was finding it just as unpleasant. Reese, jaded and defensive, didn't really seem so much younger than Charlotte. Considering Bellamy's affection for her before, Clarke believed Gina must be basically a good person, but Reese was painfully obviously not enamored of her latest pseudo-guardian. 

A shrill call from the main entrance to Alpha station dashed their hopes of a quick get-away, making Clarke groan, and Kane offer a quick, sympathetic glance. 

“Can't you at least stay so we can all go to the summit together?” suggested Abby, before she even reached them. 

Holding on to her patience with both hands, Clarke took a deep breathe, and offered her mother a painfully tight smile. 

“More of my people are going to the summit too, and they've never made the trip to Polis. I need to go back for them.” 

“Then bring them back here, there's plenty of time, and then we can still go together.”

Nathan scowled, openly, and Clarke lost her smile. 

“Do you have any idea how hard these trips are? Yea, the horses help, but it's not that makes it easy. My thighs get chapped every time I do all day ride, and that doesn't seem like it's going to stop every time. Never mind the muscle, skin, and joint soreness. And to ask my people to make extra trips just so we can go together isn't going to happen. None of them are even as used to riding as I am.” she explained in tightly measured words, slow, and quiet, making herself very clear. 

“This is all too much for you to deal with.” murmured her mother, and Clarke's face flushed darkly as she completely missed the point yet again.

“Good-bye, mom. I will see you in Polis.” said the younger Griffin tightly, turning away without another word. 

Lyra waved cheerfully with the hand not clutching Gina's, and Orion offered a brief, aborted smile, but Reese's scowl remained stiff. 

Just within the gates, saying farewell to Kane was quick and painless at least, She handed over the radio that Raven had sent with them, and eyed him intently, as she reminded him it was to be shared as needed. 

Caliban, Branch, and several other Trikru warriors were waiting beyond the gates of Arkadia, and Clarke greeted them with a pleased smile. 

“I would ride back with you if you say.” informed the gruff, Trikru man firmly, making Clarke smile again. 

“Thank you, but I feel better knowing you are here to keep this from falling apart. I hope they will act wisely, but if not, I do not want Trikru nor any of the other clans to be impacted.” she replied sincerely.

Caliban nodded sternly, glancing towards the gates with obvious censure. 

“Till Polis, Wanheda.” offered the gruff warrior in stiff farewell, and she offered a slight smile in return even while thinking she'd never get over the memory of him dying beneath her hand. That he was such a determined ally in this life only made it worse, really. 

“May we meet again.” murmured Clarke, before she joined Nathan, who was holding both their horses patiently. 

Just as she went to swing herself up onto her little mare's back, the electric buzz of the gates sounded. Clarke looked back, wondering if Kane had returned, but instead it was her mother running through it, aimed straight for her. Rocking back on her heels, Clarke waited, uncertain. 

Abby cupped her daughter's face in one hand, ignoring the weapons so blatantly worn, the grim faced boy watching suspiciously, the grounders whom she couldn't even really believe existed... 

“Please don't leave. Stay.” whispered her mother, and Clarke closed her eyes to block out the sight of her mother's pained face. 

“Mom, don't do this. You know I've got to go.” muttered Clarke, and she turned away, quickly closing the little distance between herself and her escape by throwing herself up onto the pretty little mare, who'd been waiting patiently. 

Abby took a startled few steps back from the animal, but frowned grimly, without sign of fear on her face. She nodded jerkily. “I know that you think you have to.” conceded her mother. 

There was nothing else to say, and no other way to deal with this. 

They took their time on the way back home, riding easily, relaxed, without urgency for once, and she was surprised, even as well as she felt like she knew him, at how much Nate talked. While they'd rode in near absolute silence on the way to Arkadia, on the way back, they kept up a steady stream about all they'd ever known, they learned on their visit, and all that was still to come. Perhaps being back within Alpha's walls had brought old memories up, and they in turn demanded to be spoken of...


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23 

Day 94, Late Afternoon

Silently listening to the sounds of Hundred Camp and it's occupants, Nathan Miller leaned back against the side of the dropship, waiting for Clarke to finish up inside. He watched as dinner was being hurriedly finished, and things cleaned up for another long day of eking out an existence within the forest. It wasn't really so different from the grounder capital, at least. As he waited, he considered the failed attempt at the restful break Clarke and he had hoped for after the Arkadia mission. 

It was supposed to be a break- a few normal days at home, to regroup before returning to Polis. Both Clarke and Miller were feeling the need for such respite desperately after days of fending off their respective parent's pleas, and Jaha's scheming. Neither had mentioned this to the camp at large when they'd arrived, because the kids didn't really have any idea the never-ending politics and parental issues entailed, and it wasn't as if anyone in Hundred Camp ever laid about on vacation. Bellamy made sure of that, the massive workload of keeping everyone watered, fed, and sheltered, spread out fairly over the group, no one ever having enough idle time to become truly rested. But perhaps, Miller mused, they should have announced their need for a breather before the summit, because they certainly hadn't gotten it as the entire camp was in sulking. 

Despite Bellamy and Raven had both given all-normal reports via radio, the night they'd gotten home, it had been clear to Nate from the muted reception that something was off here. It'd been nearly as gloomy as walking around Arkadia, frankly. Monroe and Harper had taken their horses off to the little roped off enclosure, not needing to speak to let it be known the animals would be well-cared for. Monty and Jasper had brought them drinks, and awkwardly joined them by the fire, not eagerly speaking over each other for once. Bellamy had barked at a couple of the camp crew kids to get them some dinner fixed, since they'd gotten in well-past the camp's normal final meal time. Raven and Wick didn't even appear to greet them. The delinquents didn't huddle up close around the fire like they usually did with eager requests for new. From the fringes of the firelight, there were low grumbles overlapping each other. Shrugs and averted eyes had answered Clarke's worried queries about the reasons why. Hundred Camp had never been so grim. 

Most of them were both hurt and disappointed to not being going for the summit. Apparently, as Clarke had walked every single one of them to Arkadia once before, there had been a mass misunderstanding that everyone would be going to Polis now for the summit. Between Derek's leg, which continued to pain him more instead of less, Mary's advancing pregnancy, and the general amount of chaos that hauling the collective dozens of teenagers through days of walking, for there was no way they could borrow enough horses for everyone, made it impossible on such short, non-essential notice. Many of them had made persistent arguments over why they in particular should go- of varying degrees of sensibility. Clarke did not need someone along purely to carry her med bag, no matter what one of the smaller Skaikru boys had said. Jasper and Atom had been chosen, despite their somewhat dubious belief in themselves for the task, to keep Hundred Camp in hand in the absence of the rest. 

Derek himself, who seemed to somewhat regret his decision not to make the trip to Arkadia, but definitely didn't want to go to Polis- 

Jasper had been meant to go, until he'd annoyed Bellamy far too much about wanting to bring some random, smiling, sweet faced girl along. According to the always-willing to gossip Wick, Jasper and Mischa had been nearly inseparable since the grounder feast. Less interested, but ever observant Raven had commented dryly that they were absolutely sickening- walking around camp hand-in-hand every night. Sickening, or not, his continued attempts to persuade them that the girl, a member of the camp crew, would be helpful, that gotten himself kicked off of the traveling roster. His shocked face complete with puppy-ish hurt eyes, had then gotten him put in charge of the camp alongside Atom, as a consolation by Clarke.

Bellamy had attempted to lay down the order that both Zoe and Harper would also be left behind at Hundred Camp because of the unknown situation that was Polis. Neither girl had taken it well, and had gone to Clarke when arguing with Bellamy failed- the speculator row, complete with screamed accusations of totalitarian rule, between the princess and the knight had kept the entire camp up till nearly dawn one night despite their having vacated the confines of the wall not long after sunset to have their disagreement in the supposed privacy of the forest, and left everyone in poor spirits since. Not to mention that while Harper was content in Monty's support, Zoe had yet to acknowledge Bellamy's existence since, and the dark looks from the female side of the bunkhouse let him know he wasn't welcome in there at all. On the outs with every female he regularly interacted with, the eldest of Skaikru was brooding badly, using his time instead to go out with the hunting parties- other than Monroe and Harper's, at every chance. 

After Raven's idea of using the rovers stored in Mt. Weather for the trip had been flatly rejected, to keep from inciting too much interest in the unoccupied bunker, she'd been brooding as well. They didn't have the manpower to deal with grounders wanting the stockpile from themselves, nor the time to deal with Arkadia's demands, should they learn of it, not even with Trikru keeping a silent watch over the mountain's entrances. 

Worse, though, was Clarke's order for all guns to be left behind at home, and the revelation that at the Polis city limit, they'd have to leave even their other weapons behind. Raven, and Wick, too, who'd never even considered joining the training under Caliban's harsh tutelage, felt naked without a rifle. Even Bellamy, who'd thrown himself full-heartedly in the hard, physical hand-to-hand, and blade combat training, was angry at leaving behind both the handgun and the rifle he worn every moment he was awake, and sometimes when he slept. 

As if it wasn't all enough, the leading group of Skaikru, that knew of Praimfaya's coming, had been split down the middle in a hushed, but no less passionate argument about when to reveal the disaster to the rest. Unrest was bubbling into a heated fury with tensions so high, and though Clarke obviously felt it, trying to sweeten the tempers en mass however she could, as the departure time for the summit crept closer, the mood only soured further. The weight of leaving their people in such tension left Bellamy choking on the thoughts. Not that any of the chosen members of the delegation were looking forward to a hard day's ride, or perhaps worse, two days of still exhausting ride for the inexperienced, with such discord among them. Clarke had prevailed at least- bringing along Zoe and Harper, with the threat to Bellamy that should he annoy the pair of capable gunners badly enough, they might decide instead to stay in Polis, as Octavia did instead of return home to Hundred Camp. Scowling at the very mention of his sister's preference for the grounder city, he'd backed down silently, but things hadn't cooled between the leaders yet. 

Having convinced neither of her two most-concerning patients, Derek, who's now healed leg still ached more than it should have, and Mary, growing ever closer to being the first Skaikru to give birth to go to Arkadia for medical care, Clarke was trying to figure out plans for both. Monty was, thanks to Nyko's advice, brewing up herbal pain relief tonics for Derek, but the sullen boy was still complaining, and asking for the actual narcotic medications locked carefully away in Mt. Weather's medical center that Clarke feared too much for the possibility of addiction to give him. 

Bellamy and Zoe were so obviously on the outs, though they didn't argue or carry on dramatically, they simply, blatantly, gave each other the absolute silent treatment- communicating through others when required, it only added another layer of tension throughout the group, as Harper, Fox, and surprisingly Raven, were supporting Zoe with a similar approach to Bellamy, Monty, Wick, and Nate were awkwardly ignoring the entire situation, leading the rest of the camp in a similar approach, except for a handful of painfully obvious flirting attempts for random members of camp at both Bell and Zoe, which didn't help matters at all when (Troy?) noticed Bree's doe eyed staring at their brooding leader. 

After three arguments turned fight fights in two nights, Clarke and Bellamy, also arguing about everything under the sun, managed to agree on a two-week long ban on moonshine. 

Only worsening matters were the fact the rolling waves of tension were apparently causing a contagious outbreak of nightmares- furthering Clarke, Monty, Raven, and Zoe's collective argument that Hundred Camp didn't need to have the praimfaya news made common knowledge yet. Clarke's own nightmares had barely, mostly, receded, in time for this, and she was left flailing, trying to comfort everyone who cried out at night, even with most of the delinquents suffering as quietly as possible. Not even Bellamy, or Monty, or Raven, were willing to discuss their dreams however. 

In the unhappy atmosphere, Clarke had acquired another shadow: Mary Eng, who she'd switched from water to camp crew, and now could most often be found near their younger leader.

Dropship Med Bay Area 

With Mary sticking so close to her, the medic-turned-healer used the chance to try subtly digging information out of the other girl, but the Farm Station girl was tight-lipped. Her blood pressure was staying a little too high, but with the atmosphere around camp, it was hardly surprising. 

“You could make the trip with us, and go back with the Arkadia delegation.” offered Clarke gently, just nodding when Mary shook her head firmly. 

“Have you decided on names?” asked Clarke absently.

“Don't laugh.” warned the other girl. Clarke looked up in surprise, smiling reassuringly.

“I think... Clarke, for a girl, or John for a boy. For you, or your John. ” ventured Mary quietly. 

Gaping at her, Clarke tried to come up with a response. 

“But I won't if you don't like it! It's just that... I can't imagine doing this without you.” assured Mary urgently. 

Clarke shifted, flustered. “No, I mean, I'm just surprised. You don't have to!” 

“Like you said, this is the first Skaikru baby, and you're the reason Skaikru exists anyway. And without Murphy, well, who knows what would have happened to us all.” 

The Skaikru leader was flushing that dark heat and ducked her head lightly. Her face was burning with the undeserved honor, and the stabbing reminder of Murphy's impulsive sacrifice, but the younger girl looked so hopeful that Clarke couldn't stand to disappoint her. 

“I'd be honored. But you don't have to, okay? I mean, don't feel like you have to just because I'm looking after you. You're my people, you don't have to thank me.” 

Mary's face lit up with when she smiled, and she laughed, pleased with Clarke's concession. 

That night, Clarke would have sworn she heard the soft, sarcastic laughter she missed more than she could have expected once again, imaging a kid being saddled with the legacy of John Murphy. 

They'd spent all day preparing to leave the next morning, and were planning to make camp half-way for the night, since most of their traveling party had never made the ride, or much of a ride at all. The eight of them would make slow-going, with only Clarke, Nathan, and Harper and Zoe to a lesser degree, comfortable riding. But it was still easier than walking, and Trikru had provided the horses without asking, Artigas and Tris leading them along with another couple of the Triku kids, Cor, and Pru, and Livia, Tris had introduced formally, the afternoon after Clarke and Nathan had returned from Arkadia. Trikru, under Anya's orders, would be keeping an even closer guard over the mount weather's entrances, with Clarke's command that no one entered it while she, Bellamy, and the rest were away. 

The night was windy, and the fog was heavy. Hundred Camp was quiet. Most of the clan of delinquents slept in the tight quarters of their single cabin, while even the dropship's occupants were sleeping through in the dead of night. Nestled in her pallet inside the dropship, sleeping safe in the knowledge that Miller lay between her and the world, Clarke was curled up. The rest of the camp might be at odds, but at least he remained in agreement with her. 

Only the watch, five tired, but strong, was out of bed, posted around the wall as wary sentries with guns in their hands and bows at their side. Even now in the ease of peace with the grounders, and the alienation of the mountain men, the watch continued. Now they kept their eyes out for predators of the animal kind, mostly, or storms that would call for the shelters to be secured. No one could forgot those early days, when every sound from the darkness made them cringe, but now, they walked in the darkness like they'd been raised for it. 

 

Day 95, Hundred Camp

It is time to return to Polis. 

She will have to stand in the room where John died. 

Even fleeting shows of weakness will endanger her people. 

“We've got to go. Arkadia's supposed to get to Polis the day after tomorrow.” reminded Clarke quietly, trying not to wake anyone who didn't need to be up so early. 

It was still dark when they emerged from the dropship.

At the gate, Atom waited, with a small group huddled around, there was Bree and Troy, Collette, Fox, Mary, and sure enough, Jasper and Mischa holding hands still. 

After self-consciously hugging Harper, Jasper impulsively hugged Clarke too, as she lead her mare quietly through the gate. Atom nodding solemnly to them all, accepting the hard clap on his back from Bellamy in reminder of his duty. 

By late morning, Clarke was already wishing she'd decided on a smaller group for the summit, because at this rate, they were never going to make it. Wick had managed to get himself thrown from his horse, spraining one wrist badly, though lucky that was the only injury he sustained, but since he'd thrown up after hitting the ground, Clarke had needed to stop their march for nearly an hour, till she was certain he was alright. Monty's sweet faced little mare had developed a limp a couple hours back, necessitating him riding double with Harper, leading the sore footed horse behind them slowly. Bellamy preferred to get off his mount, marching along leading the mare instead of riding since they were moving slow anyway, and Zoe appeared to be half-asleep, one of the better riders, having taken Clarke's little mare out for rides every time she had a chance and the nerve to ask, was lulled by the slow, rocking tread. 

By early afternoon, Clarke admitted defeat. They had to give up on the hope of making it to Polis before tomorrow. Nathan on the other hand wanted to turn half the group around right then, sending them back home, in order for he, and Clarke, and maybe Bellamy, to continue on to Polis faster, and with less drama. 

By the time darkness had fully fallen upon them, she was wishing she'd never even considered bringing more of her friends to the summit. They'd ridden at a slow, plodding pace, with breaks often to stretch and rest, because most of them hadn't made the trip before. Pitching a couple tents within the copse of trees, having purposefully chosen dark material, they gathered close to the small fire, and Clarke looked around the huddle fondly- Bellamy, Zoe, Nathan, Monty, Harper, Raven, and Wick... At least Bell and Zoe appeared to be were ignoring their argument for the time being, as nothing could possibly have made the travel less pleasant than an on-going dispute amongst themselves. Even Raven was firmly ignoring the disagreement over the rovers, and Bellamy and Clarke were icily polite, pretending to be brand new acquaintances perhaps, so delicately were they tip toeing around the opinions of the rest. Had anyone made even a single volley into reopening the set aside battles, Clarke would have instantly capitulated to Nathan's hissed suggestion to send the lot of them back to camp. 

Around the mid-way point between Hundred Camp and Polis, Past Nightfall 

It wasn't until Clarke finally found a copse of loosely scattered trees she felt would do for the night to camp in the midst of, and they were settled down, three low, makeshift tents pitched, with a jug of moonshine from Monty's pack to share that tensions died away. It was a little shy of mid-way, but the traveling party was beyond ready to end the day. 

“So is this how anybody imagined the ground?” asked Zoe dryly from where she was pressed snugly into Harper's side, sharing body heat beneath a shared fur, just as the rest were for the most part- Bellamy sat alone, warmed by the heat of his own brooding. 

“Oh yeah I totally called it. Tattooed grounders. Freaking glowing moss and butterflies. Doomsday heading straight for us. Yea.” offered Harper sarcastically, though she grinned as she finished to soften her words. 

“Honestly, we really should have predicted glowing animal and plant life... it's not as common as congenital structural deformities, but still it was always a possibility that we obviously shouldn't have discounted.” mused Monty thoughtfully, not noticing the fondly exasperated glances he received, his face turned into where Harper was cuddled against his shoulder. 

“The ground, that's the dream! Reality sucks.” commented Bellamy. 

“Living the dream.” agreed Nate. 

“It could've been worse. Imagine if we got dropped off a week before the end of the world.” joked Raven morbidly. 

Imagining that nightmare, Clarke cringed terribly, feeling Nathan's flinch as well, though the rest seemed to shrug it off a little easier. 

“The irony of us landing six months before the second global meltdown is really unsettling.” threw in Wick. 

“Obviously the two century prediction was way off, though. Makes me wonder what else our predictions got wrong.” revealed Monty. 

“At this point, the things we don't know, or have miscalculated will most likely just kill us all before we even realize how we screwed up.” commented Raven, nuzzled into Wick's side, with a blasé set to her face as if it was strictly for the sharing of body heat.

“At least our kids shouldn't ever have to deal with this nuclear fallout-”offered Clarke wearily. 

“Nuclear bullshit” corrected Raven bitterly. 

“Yea, that's if any of us live long enough to have kids.” muttered Zoe. 

“Hell, we're still kids, or we should have been. We're not supposed to be heroes, or soldiers, or freakin trying to keep the human race alive.” reminded Harper. 

Though the rest fervently agreed, Bellamy and Wick laughed, knowing well they weren't any sort of kid, even of the teenage delinquent variety, while Raven dug her sharp, slim elbow into Wick's ribs for the laughter, making him let out an injured howl that he choked on as he tried to hold it in. Nate grimaced at the sheer amount of noise, that might as well have been a flare sent up to summon attention for anyone traveling nearby, but Clarke sighed in a bit of relief, smiling around the huddled group, thankful for the ease of the tension, even if only for a moment. 

“John used to say that Earth was like a slow game of Russian roulette.” reminisced their blonde leader wistfully. 

“Hell yea it is.” agreed Raven with an amused gleam of her eyes as she met Clarke's. 

Day 96, Polis, Early Evening 

A little serving girl of the tower came barreling into the room, flushed cheeks and panting, to deliver the message entrusted to her. 

“Wanheda's been spotted! Moving slowly closer! On foot!” yelped Enya frantically, bouncing in place in her excitement. 

“Can we go meet them?” asked Aden, straightening up quickly. 

Lexa smiled indulgently, nodding to him specifically, but waving her hand for all the novitiates to be included in the answer. “If you wish.”

Nodding hurriedly, Aden grabbed Charlotte's hand, tugging her to her feet as he leapt to his, and they went galloping from the room, leaving their belongings resting in their spots on the floor at the commander's feet. In a flurry of bows towards Lexa, and stepping around the abandoned bags and paraphernalia, a couple of the younger novitiates raced after them. It took only a sharp look from Lexa for four of the guards to peel off the wall to hasten after the young nitblidas. 

Still sitting before her, the older novitiates waited, stiffly, for Lexa's curt nod of dismissal to them as well. Neither of the eldest two had any interest in running after the brats. 

Polis City Limits 

A welcoming party was not expected, but the Skaikru delegation perked up some at the sight of it. With her blonde hair, shorter and fully braided back, tanned skin, and dressed without even a hint of the Ark, Charlotte did not even stand out of the small pack of children until they got close enough to see her face. The youngest of Skaikru threw herself at Clarke, wrapping her arms around, as the elder returned the affection, though she'd nearly fallen at the impact, held up only by Bellamy's quick move to steady them. 

Polis was more exuberant than Clarke had ever seen it, in either life. Children of all ages, from seemingly hardly out of diapers to older than Charlotte, were running about, haphazardly, squealing through the crowded streets. It seemed as if there were hundreds of extra people, and when she muttered that, Aden had smirked, assuring her that there in fact were. 

“Heda announced the summit as soon as possible, and invited all the people of the coalition to join us in Polis to celebrate. Coming so soon after your defeat over the mountain, people have been streaming in from all around.” continued Aden proudly. 

It took ages to make their way through the crowds, even with the commander's guard pushing their way through, and Aden had slyly suggested Clarke remove her hood, to ease their passage. She'd looked askance, but laughed at the look he'd given her- so reminding her of the mischievous look she'd seen only once or twice on Lexa's face. 

 

As always, Octavia came marching into the commander's chamber when she got word that Skaikru had arrived, gripping first Clarke, then the rest in hard, fast embraces, before she even nodded in acknowledgment of Lexa's presence upon her throne. 

“My door is right over there. I could fit one or two more in. I don't care, it's fine.” pointed Clarke tiredly. 

“Wells, and Nate's room is that way- there's two double beds, so whatever.” 

“This is Octavia and Charlotte's room. They could fit one more, but Charlotte sometimes has nightmares-” continued Clarke. 

“and Octavia kicks.” finished Nathan dryly in sync with Clarke's comment, she rolled her eyes at him, while the girl in question smirked. 

“And Lexa's had those two rooms set aside for Skaikru. Can be one for girls, other for boys, or whatever. I don't care. Everyone just find somewhere to sleep. I'm so done for today.” finished Clarke. 

Raven and Wick claimed one cheerfully, and much more shyly, Monty and Harper claimed the other, while Zoe joined Octavia and Charlotte (they can't be worse than Fox and Harper, claimed the petite gunner), Nate claimed a spot in Clarke's bed, claiming that Clarke and Octavia had better beds than the rest, and Bellamy grumpily took Nate's bed in the room shared with Wells. Not that Clarke really noticed, because she ended straight for bed, falling face down in the lumpy softness, her booted feet hanging off the edge until Nate gruffly tugged them off, dropping them to the floor lazily. She was already asleep when he dropped onto the other side of the bed. They both grumbled, tossing into each other and away again, but neither roused enough to remember it the next morning.


	24. Chapter 24

Polis 

Day 97 

Before the sun had even fully lit her room, Clarke awoke, snuggled firmly back-to-back with Nate, to Enya's firm knock upon the door. This time, the little serving maid didn't even look surprised to see the sky princess in bed with a boy, having apparently grown immune to it during Murphy's tenure in Clarke's bed. At least this time, neither were shirtless. She did not bring breakfast as normal, though, but announced instead that Heda had ordered a communal chamber be put to Skaikru's use, where they could take their meals together with the delegation being swollen in numbers. 

Dressing quickly, since it mostly required pulling boots and belts back on, Nate and Clarke followed the young grounder, to survey the room. It was only down the hall from the bedrooms of the rest of Skaikru, and Octavia was waiting alone, with the flushed, sweaty glow that told them she'd been up before the sun to workout. The dark haired young ambassador looking out the window as they entered, but threw a smirk over her shoulder at them in greeting. Enya left them at the door, bowing to Clarke, and vowed to bring breakfast up to them swiftly. 

“Where's Charlotte?” asked Clarke. 

“Waiting for Monroe to get dressed.” 

Octavia went back to looking over the barely lit city, which was already stirring to life. Only the very dead of night was ever quiet in Polis. 

She's having nightmares again. Trying to wear herself out enough every day to sleep through it, but it's back to just as bad as when we arrived. Doesn't want to talk about it though.” revealed Octavia bluntly. 

“Everyone's having nightmares, and no one wants to talk about it.” muttered Clarke, flicking at glance over at Nathan, who ignored her dig easily. 

“Not me.” chirped Octavia. 

In the center of the room, Nate dropped onto one of the quartet of couches that were gathered around a collection of low tables pushed against each other, but Clarke passed up the arrangement to join Octavia at the center window. Though the rest of the room was sparsely furnished, the view out of the windows was somewhat obscured by crowded rows of wind chimes. They were eccentric, and charming, made up of tiny trinkets ranging from jagged little rocks and bits of metal, to brightly colored glass beads. 

“Earth sound masking system.” explained Octavia cheerfully, as Clarke eyed the wind chimes curiously. They were in all the rooms Clarke had seen in the tower, except for Lexa's audience chamber, but she'd never seen so many of them strung up together so closely. 

From the couch, where he was now sprawled on his back, looking perhaps as if he was considering a nap before breakfast, Nate snorted. “Did you steal them out of every other room?” 

Smirking, Octavia laughed a bit. “Lexa thinks we'd start riots if the ambassadors overheard any of our chatter.” 

As they could hear the din of the rest of their crew coming down the hallway to the new chamber, Clarke winced as she heard Raven ask what the hell, something, is. 

“She might be right.” muttered the young leader. 

The door swung open to admit Raven ad Wick, closely followed by Monroe and Charlotte, Monty and Harper, and Bellamy and Wells at last, ushering the group hastily inside. The one-time chancellor's son already looked harassed, his eyes swinging wildly around the room as he practically shoved Monty and Harper far in enough for the door to be closed heavily behind them all. 

“Ok, ok, look, you've got to remember that there are other delegations on this floor, and most of them speak English fluently, ok?” hissed Wells once the door was closed. 

Octavia ran her fingers delicately across a row of the wind chimes, setting them off into their musical ringing, smirking at nothing in particular. 

“I mean, c'mon, they know we're from space. It's not like we could be used to everything here.” defended Raven curtly. 

“But they don't need to know the extent of our ignorance.” cut in Clarke quickly. 

Over the hearty, generous breakfast, communal platters full of meats, and cheeses, and breads laid onto the low tables surrounded by couches, joined by pitches of fresh milk, and a sweet, watery red juice, to fill the little tin cups with, that Enya had carried in with the help of another half-dozen servers, they tried to talk in low, voices, even with the breeze keeping the chimes nearly in constant motion. 

“You never worry about it being poisoned?” asked Bellamy quietly before they dug in. Clarke and Octavia, sitting close as they shared a couch with Charlotte and Monroe, both stiffened up, but Nate pointedly leaned forwards to pour himself a glass of the juice to down in one long gulp. 

“No.” he announced after swallowing, and snatched up a thick, greasy sausage to munch as everyone watched him. Wells followed suit, neatly drinking from the milk, and selecting a thick slice of dry, white cheese to begin with, and the tension broke as everyone began to help themselves, though Bellamy was the last to join in, starting slowly with a hard crusted rosemary bread. 

“An ambassador delegation in the commander's tower being poisoned would start a war. The coalition would turn on itself by the day's end, and even a taunt peace is better than none.” explained Wells quietly. 

“And the grounders don't believe Wanheda would drop dead from poison anyway, and they don't want to be at war with her.” interjected Octavia more realistically. 

“How is Mary doing?” asked Wells, changing the subject smoothly. 

Sighing heavily first, Clarke answered slowly. “As well as could be hoped. We've confirmed that the father was on Factory Station, which didn't have any survivors, and she's been gaining weight well. Of course she's tired and scared, but she's not letting it overwhelm her. Tried to convince her to go to Arkadia for the birth, but she flat-out refused. She wants Monty and I to handle the birth. Which is... alarming, but... it's her decision. I've brought some supplies from the mountain, and Nyko has agreed to attend sooo... I'm hopeful. But there is so much that could go wrong. Jackson did his best to prepare me, but honestly... this is the riskiest thing I can think of.” 

“She would be safer here in Polis.” agreed Octavia flatly. 

Clarke shrugged helplessly. “I couldn't drag her here against her will.” 

They finished up breakfast quickly, most of them used to just roasted meat, and whatever they could forage, back at camp, except for when Trikru would feed them on their training visits. What had seemed like a indomitable feast was quickly vanquished. 

“I need to talk to Lexa to be sure she's not going to care about us touring the bunker.” said Clarke once everything was finished off, her crew sprawled out on their sofas, adjusting to their overly full stomachs for once. 

“Like it's gonna stop us if she does.” Raven's voice was arrogant, yet there was a titling end to it, as if she was questioning Clarke about it. 

“I'm going talk to her now. Don't get lost, hopefully she'll let us go now to get started.” added Clarke, meeting Raven's stare calmly. Rising then, in order to avoid answering Raven's challenge, the blonde made her way towards Lexa's audience chamber, guessing she'd be there by now, considering how long it had taken Skaikru to finish off the generous breakfast. Uncomfortably, she tried to pretend she wasn't running away from the idea- to obey Lexa even if she disagreed with her, or not? 

The guards on the doors parted to let Wanheda enter, and Clarke straightened up, knowing that if Lexa was inside, then Titus was likely as well, before pushing the doors open herself. 

“I need my people to see the bunker.” Clarke informed the commander quietly, ignoring Titus' hovering. 

Lexa's answering nod came easily. “Titus and Gaia have both been inside the sanctuary, as have I, Octavia, and her advisers, but that is all until now. Costia will be accompanying us today. I am also bringing two of my most trusted guards. They are my novitiates' watchers- Toms kom Trikru, and Suri kom Delfikru. They will keep the secret, as they keep countless others. If things do not go to plan, it will be they who protect the nitblida children. Your Charlotte would be safe in their care if need be.” explained the commander solemnly. 

“Can you please stop planning for your death?” asked Clarke wearily. 

Lexa's smirk was somewhat grim. “Only once my fight is done.” 

The glare that screwed up Clarke's face, leaving her brow furrowed and her nose wrinkled impressively, was not acknowledged. Instead the commander merely continued on despite it. 

“Titus will be announcing that Skaikru is being introduced to the faith of the Order of the Flame. The area will be cleared, as it is when I go to the temple anyway, and we will not be disturbed. Let us meet outside the temple. Only your delegation, and those I escort with me, will be allowed.” 

Clarke arrived first, having made the rounds quickly to make sure everyone knew it was time, before hastening from the tower and to the temple's entrance. The guards, posted at the tower doors, and in a perimeter around the temple, let her pass with short bows of their heads. Putting her back to the temple wall, she waited, and watched. There were nearly a dozen guards within her sight, and doubtlessly more around besides that. Wells arrived next, leading Raven and Wick decorously, and then the rest of Skaikru came hurrying into sight, with Bellamy joining Clarke with leaning against the wall, and the rest gathering loosely to be able to look around the city, still curious, having not had much time to explore. 

Octavia was the last to arrive, smirking proudly, with Lincoln impassively at her side. The group parted easily, to let the pair come to stand before Clarke and Bellamy. 

“Bellamy, you remember Lincoln kom Trikru?” began Clarke pleasantly, after a smile to Lincoln. 

“He's my lover.” cut in Octavia bluntly, taking Lincoln's hand into her own possessively, causing the group to grow still as everyone processed the announcement she'd just dropped onto her brother. 

Choking on his tongue, Bellamy shook his head, and looked anywhere but at his sister, or Lincoln. 

“What?” he managed hoarsely. 

“Lover. Paramour. Boyfriend. Suitor. Main squeeze.” Octavia's blithe reply made even Clarke, and Raven flush, as the look on both Bellamy and Lincoln's face became even more mortified. 

The Skaikru were so flustered with the Blake siblings' drama, that they did not notice the commander coming into view with half a dozen others accompanying her until Gaia discretely cleared her throat in warning- bringing the sky people to attention. Lexa's eyes swept over them, noting the tension, and looked to Clarke for explanation. The blonde leader grimaced, but shook her head lightly, trying to assure the other that there was no real problem. 

“We will begin.” announced Titus gravely, sweeping past the sky children to enter the temple, Lexa waved her hand to allow the Skaikru to enter, and they did, mostly, but Bellamy and Octavia stayed, with Lincoln, and Clarke at their respective sides, until Clarke nodded her heads towards the temple pointedly for Lexa, who frowned heavily, but soon lead her own group inside.

With the area emptied out, Clarke moved to slip an arm through Lincoln's, on the opposite side of Octavia, who merely flicked her a disinterested glance before returning to glare at her brother. Standing on her toes, Clarke whispered into Lincoln's ear, and tugged him forwards. With a questioning look to Octavia, who nodded curtly, the Trikru warrior allowed himself slowly to be led into the temple despite his reluctance to leave her. 

“Clarke said she thinks you'll forgive me eventually-” tried Bellamy hesitantly. 

“You get that I don't give a shit about the whole princess and wanheda crap, right?” retorted Octavia sharply. 

“Clarke can't make me do shit. So don't bother trying to bully her into agreeing with you again.” continued the fiery eyed girl, with her whole body taunt, ready for a fight. 

Her older brother's reaction caught her by surprise, however, when his shoulders slumped, and he looked away, downcast. Despite the guards' holding the perimeter around the temple clear, even the pathways leading to it, the sounds of the city easily reached them. Children, their laughter and weeping intermixed in the air, women yelling out to them, the sounds echoing out of the blacksmiths open stalls, the woodworkers, the butchers, all rising into a raucous din that was all-together Polis. Villages, even Ton DC, mused Octavia as she waited impatiently on Bellamy's retort, just didn't have the same surrounding noise. Too spread out, maybe. Only in the capital did the people live all on top of each other, with dozens of butchers, bakeries, potteries, all squashed together within the city's boundaries. As her brother brooded, she got lost in the sounds, until she startled herself with the unconscious thought....

“This is home.” 

Not Hundred Camp. Not Ton DC. For damn sure not the Ark, much less Arkadia... this city, here, where she could get lost in the masses, and be whomever she wanted to. 

Intruding on her silent revelation, Bellamy gathered his words, and began to let them out, in gruff, pained bursts. 

“She told me about Lincoln. About Pike, and the massacre. I didn't believe it. Until I remembered how much you despise me, and then I realized she must be right. Clarke told me I had to remember where my loyalties are, and it's you, O. My loyalty is to you. To protect you, to be with you. I swear it. The whole world can go to Hades for all I care, so long as you are ok. What do I have to do for you to forgive me? To trust me again?” 

As he pleaded, coming slowly closer to stand just before her. Looking down into the hard, painted face that he could still imagine as just a little girl, he kept his hands balled into fists at his sides. Wrapping her into his arms was what he wanted, but there was little doubt in his mind how she'd feel about that. 

“Forgiveness does not mean forgetting.” spat the young ambassador. It was with great effort, visible in her bunched muscles, ready to spring, that she kept her voice too low to be overheard by those waiting for them within the temple. 

“O, you're my sister. I love you. I just want to make the world safe for you.” 

His dark eyes beseech her, but her chin rose higher into the air defiantly. 

“I don't need you to do anything, but keep Skaikru in hand.” hissed Octavia. 

“I have forgiven you for the sins you can't remember, but you're still a threat to be managed. I have forgiven Clarke less than you seem to think, but she and I are waging the same war. I know where my loyalties lie.” continued the ambassador grimly, hardly in more than a whisper, so close they were standing, nothing more was needed. 

“A threat?” asked Bellamy hoarsely, eyeing his sister in fearful anxiety of her answer, stepping back once, then again, and again, until he was back against the temple wall, staring at her still. 

She eyed him in return, silently cataloging every nuance of his stance, his expression, his soul. And nodded curtly. 

“There's no telling what you'll do, and little room for error if we're going to survive. That's not a good combination.” explained Octavia finally, seriously, without the bite of spiteful ire she was oft fueled by, when it came to her sibling. 

“O, I will never to do anything to hurt you.” 

“C'mon. Hurry up and see where humanity died.” instructed Octavia, her hands still clenched in fists at her sides, as she averted her eyes from his pleading face, and stalked passed him. 

Wincing painfully at the reminder, Bellamy followed her without further words. Inside, the hatch was waiting open, with the others gathered around it. He did not miss the way Clarke's eyes locked onto his sister when they entered, nor the way the furious tension did not ease from Octavia. So much was being said, and remembered, in their eyes, but he only vaguely could imagine what. 

Breaking the trance of watching the pair of girls, he looked around to the rest of their sloppy circle.   
None of his people looked happy exactly, but the interest was bright in most of their eyes, despite their nerves. Except for Miller and Wick, who each looked pained at the prospect of descending into the unknown. Of the grounders, they seemed mostly awestruck, and the pretty young scout Wells was so cozy with- who looked like she might vomit into the hatch itself. No one, not even those Clarke had said had already entered the bunker, in this life, seemed to want to go first. 

“This is how we save our people.” said Lexa, her arms crossed stiffly, as her sharp eyes swept slowly over the circle, meeting each pair of eyes she could. 

“Not everyone.” pointed out Costia, her eyes locked upon the opening, and shoulders hunched forwards.

Finally shaking loose of her shared, trance-like stare with Octavia, Clarke opened her mouth to answer, but the commander beat her to it. 

“We will survive equally. One hundred from each clan.” intoned Lexa firmly. 

She led the way into the bunker. They followed her, with varying degrees of faith. Lastly, Titus came down through the hatch, his dignity somewhat ruffled by the climbing down in his priests robe, and closed it behind himself with the familiar motion that told those who watched that he'd done it several times before. 

Lexa, who'd descended into the bunker with all the lethal grace of a leaping panther, waited with a small smirk on her face. 

“We have begun to prepare the sanctuary.” she announced as she led the way to the main gathering hall.

Lining the walls they passed were hundreds of wood board boxes, stacked upon each other. 

“Mostly we are bringing in preserved food, and basic supplies- fur, leather, wool, cotton, rope. After praimfaya, we will have to rebuild our lives, and we are going to need to save as much as the materials as possible. Stone, and metal, should survive the death wave without issues, but we have no idea how wood will weather praimfaya. Even the trees themselves may fall, and be unusable by the time we emerge.” explained Octavia, indicating the boxes as she walked. 

“The chosen will not be able to bring much of non-useful goods inside, because even the barracks and private quarters will be used for communal storage.” continued the young ambassador.

“Octavia is overseeing the stocking of the bunker.” added Lexa smoothly, when she caught the uncertain glances of the novitiates' guards. 

“As someone who grew up in a similar confined environment without adequate rations, I'd say I'm qualified.” drawled the dark haired girl snidely. 

It took hours for Wick, Raven, and Monty to examine every inch of the bunker. The rest had started off by following them around, but the group broke off here and there until they were scattered all throughout the bunker. 

Wells and Octavia were sticking close to Lexa and her entourage, going over endless lists of preparations, while Monroe and Harper went off exploring for themselves, but Bellamy and Nate broke off as well. 

Without thought of how she was supposed to have never been inside, Clarke had shown Costia around the med bay. The Trikru healer had snorted, recognizing some of her own remedies, that the commander had been requesting in large quantities in the past weeks, as those that were beginning to fill the metal shelves. Only when Costia had run her hands curiously over the keypad security panel over the quarantine ward, and Clarke had quickly commented that it was the two-room quarantine ward, receiving an odd look from Lexa's lover, that the Skyborn girl had suddenly realized her error. Hastily finishing out the tour, Clarke fled, leaving the Earthborn girl to her own devices. 

Sometime later... 

With a static hiss grabbing their attention first, Clarke's voice came through the PA system, startling the all, but making the grounders cringe in particular. A bit fuzzy, it was clear enough for them all to understand the instruction to head back to the gathering hall. 

Reconvening there, Bellamy shuddered, something about the cavernous room, so empty despite the number that had felt awkwardly over-large in the cramped temple rooms, had him shifting in place as he looked around. 

Upon the walkway overhead, above all the rest, Octavia, Clarke, and the commander stood close, talking intently, before seeming to come to some agreement. The blonde turned from the other two, to make make the descent towards the main floor. The others watched her for a few steps, before she threw a frown over her shoulder at them. Smirking, first the commander, and then with an audible sigh, Octavia, fell into step, following her down. Only once they stood together again, at the bottom of the steps, did they turn to face the assembly. 

“So now you have seen where we will bide our time as long as we must.” announced Lexa, her words even and measured, showing no even a hint of concern about the looming disaster. 

“Five years. At least.” added the Skaikru ambassador curtly. 

“Are there no other options, but to hide beneath the ground for years?” asked one of the grounders unhappily. 

“We had hoped that we could at least lessen the time frame, but... I do not believe there is actually any hope for that...” Clarke trailed off. 

“If you're talking about the reactors, that's a dead end.” agreed Raven firmly from the small crowd facing them, between Miller and Wick. 

“There is a possibility that the reactors within reach, that haven't begun melting down yet, could be protected. That could at least minimize the local impact to some degree-” offered Monty, just a bit to Raven's left. 

“With the wave of radiation we're looking at, the odds are-” began Wick, looking between Monty and Raven... 

“The odds are never in our favor.” cut in Octavia. 

Clarke and Bellamy exchanged an ironic look at Octavia quoting a pre-Ark dystopian book, but Lexa only nodded gravely in agreement, not recognizing the quote in the slightest of course. 

The group shifted, and fidgeted as they stood around listening to Raven, Wick and Monty go over the situation they were all facing, but most unable to even theorize on dealing with. 

“Containment shelters over the reactors, but to even build one would take more time than we have. There may be an endless supply of hands, but we have exactly none of the large-scale construction tools we'd need-”

“We could find whatever-”

“Clarke, even before the Catalyst, with all the trained staff, every tool, and supply they could ever need on hand, dealing with nuclear meltdowns was a long, difficult process. The Chernobyl disaster in the late 20th century took about three decades to be mostly sorted out, and the last report on it before the Catalyst was that it was still leaking despite being considered a non-issue for a century by that point.” 

“It's a lost cause at this point. If we had five years, we could probably secure the eastern seaboard. At least enough to take the levels down. But there are reactors all around the world, that started melting down months ago. As it is, we could struggle, waste tons of hours, sacrifice who the hell knows how much material, at not inconsiderable risk to everyone involved.”

“Truthfully... we just have to find a way to live despite the radiation.” 

“A century later, we are still dealing with the nuclear mistakes of people long dead.” whispered Clarke painfully, as their arguments sunk in. 

“Tell us to do it, and I'll do my best, but Clarke...” murmured Monty, finally adding in his two cents. 

Her head pressed into her hands, she took long, deep breathes, before shaking her defeat. 

“No. It isn't worth the effort.” she conceded sadly. 

“So we focus on the bunkers. Stocking and protecting them. We can't lose control of them, because they're damn well close to impossible to break into.” reminded Octavia sharply. 

“So we station some people who've got spots inside from now on to keep them occupied.” suggested Bellamy. 

“The temple is being reinforced, but we need to have back up plans for escaping the bunker.” pointed out Monty quietly. 

“We could put a shelter over the hatch, and a hallway leading out- it'd become a tunnel, if the temple does fall.” mused Wick, but Raven rolled her eyes. 

“And if that falls on top of it too? Then it's just adding another layer to fight through.” 

“It's not like we can get large equipment into the bunker without risking the seal.” commented Monty hesitantly. 

“But Mount Weather has plenty, and could come dig Second Dawn out.” suggested Harper. 

“Alright, alright, we can fight about that later, but what about keeping someone from taking over the bunker before it's time to move in?” 

“Could station a rotating presence inside.” suggested Nathan easily.

“My warriors will protect the temple with their lives, and thus the sanctuary.” reminded Lexa curtly. 

“The bunkers being hijacked is the number one risk to humanity's survival.” said Octavia grimly, and Clarke flinched under the weight of her accusation.

“I will send my people away.” announced Lexa with a grim finality, bringing everyone's attention back to her, though she'd been listening in silence to their arguments all night. She continued, her eyes very far away, though turned towards Clarke. 

“I will send them West. They will die far away from the bunkers, searching for a new home. The less people around, the less chance for someone to discover the secret and steal it for themselves.” continued Lexa in low, coldness, but no one who could see the darkness in her face could believe she didn't care. 

Left behind in the bunker with only the nitblidas' guards inside the bunker with them, and Titus and Gaia hovering uncomfortably in the temple itself, Wick, Raven, and Monty were still intently at work.

Once they'd emerged into the sunlight once again, Clarke suggested that Wells play tour guide, showing Harper, Zoe, and Bellamy around the city, and so it was Lexa, Costia, Nathan, and Clarke left to quietly enter the tower. 

Clarke's stomach lurched when a trio of men met them at the lift, eyes only for Lexa. 

“Heda, there has been an incident.” 

“What happened?” demanded Lexa, stiffening up to her full height, and her hand slipping instinctively to the sword upon her hip. 

The warriors lowered their heads as one, only the middle, and seemingly the leader, daring to raise it back up. 

“The novitiates... there was a... altercation as they gathered to await their lessons for the day.”

“Who is injured?” snapped Lexa curtly, tightening her grip upon her sword without thinking. 

Another of the men was the first to speak this time, barely raising his head to meet his commander's eyes. 

“Thelia, Crest, Aden... and Charlotte.” 

Lexa snarled. “They were fighting among st themselves?” even as Clarke demanded they tell her where Charlotte is. 

All three men looked uncertain, their shoulders tightening as they glanced between the young women, and Lexa read their uncertainty instantly. 

“You will obey Wanheda as you do me!” she roared, moving forwards to crowd the trio of guards imposingly. Clarke was surprised, but stood firm,even taking a step closer to Lexa's side while Costia shied back slightly, watching the display with wide, disbelieving eyes. 

“Sha, Heda.” conceded each of them quickly, looking down, and quickly speaking, the leader tried to answer both questions. 

“It was just the four of them fighting, we don't know why. Thelia, and Crest are recovering in their rooms, but Aden insisted on Charlotte being tended to along with him in his room. Healer Sabine was summoned at once. They have each been attended to accordingly.” 

“Take me there.” instructed Clarke. This time they did not hesitate, one instantly turning on his heel to lead Wanheda to the novitiates wing. 

Lexa barked at another of the warriors, and turned upon the last sharply. “Send the flame-keeper to me the moment he enters the tower. Along with Suri and Toms.” 

Lexa quickly caught up to Clarke, who was following on the leading guard's heels like a storm. When their eyes met, Lexa tried to offer an apology with just her glance, but Clarke looked away quickly, hurrying forwards even swifter. Following them closely, with her eyes missing nothing, Costia's arms were crossed tightly across her chest. 

They saw to Aden and Charlotte first, because under Lexa's questioning, the guard had revealed that it was suspected that the pair had been on the receiving end of an attack, not the offenders themselves. The moment the door open to Aden's small, private bedroom, the group split- Clarke's gaze locking upon Charlotte, and Nathan following her to the small couch the girl was reclined on, immediately beginning to examine her from head to toe, without even speaking beyond low, soothing murmurs, while Costia, and Lexa headed straight for where Aden sat half-up on his bed, a mountain of pillows propping him up, the guard abandoned at the door, with a curt wave of Lexa's hand. 

“What was the cause of this?” asked Lexa in an frighteningly low tone of her voice. Aden, his chest heavily bandaged, which Costia was checking urgently, never minding the conversation. 

“Crest decided he wanted to get an early start on our conclave.” responded the young nightblood, rather dryly for one who looked only as if he could perhaps hold his head up. 

“I'm fine, really, Clarke, I'm fine. Aden got the worst of it!” yelped Charlotte anxiously. 

“It's a scratch, really.” countered Aden hastily.

“He pushed me out of the way, and then Thelia joined in!” added Wanheda's second miserably. 

“They got the worst of it.” cut in the young novitiates, his cheeks flushing. 

“But why?” asked Charlotte quietly, looking around the room's occupants, who exchanged uncertain glances among themselves rather than answer. Lexa's lip thinned in disapproval, and Clarke's look to her was furious. 

“I won't even be in the conclave. Why would they attack me?” asked Charlotte again, more plaintively as her previous question went unanswered. 

“You are Skyborn, and so not obligated to the conclave. The flame-keeper will not order to it. But your blood... your blood makes it your birthright. All you would have to do is let your blood spill before the conclave to be admitted.” explained Lexa, looking Charlotte directly in the eye, without remorse or bias. 

Charlotte's face, already pale from the ordeal, went slack. Aden frowned, though it paled in comparison to the scowl Wanheda wore at the mention of her second's ability to enter the combative challenge for the throne. 

“But I don't have to?” whispered Charlotte. 

“No, you don't.” assured Clarke firmly, rushing to answer, with a sideways glare at the commander. Lexa nodded sedately. 

“No one expects it of you.” confirmed Lexa smoothly, and Aden's face at least smoothed out some in relief. 

Once she was assured that Charlotte was stable, Clarke sent them away, with Nate gently carrying the young nightblood to the room she shared with Octavia. The door was barely closed behind them when Clarke turned her focus to Aden, and crossed the little distance between them. Ignoring Lexa, and Costia both, for the moment, Clarke went about checking the bandages, and assuring herself with brisk hands that the boy would be fine. Wide-eyed, Aden allowed it without comment, until finally, Clarke whispered lowly into his ear, and turned away another heartbeat later to meet Lexa's eyes. 

“He should be fine if it's kept clean and rested, but it's going to scar, and a few inches over, and you'd be without your protege.” announced Clarke curtly. 

Costia blanched, looking at Lexa anxiously, but the commander merely gave her single curt nod of acknowledgment. 

“Are you ready to talk about blood must not have blood yet?” demanded Clarke. 

“It is our way.” reminded Lexa coolly. 

“The boy does not deserve this. None of these children deserve to be fighting for their life, with their only alternative to be outcast scorned by all. Since this tower still remains unsafe for my people, I'm taking Charlotte home with me, and I'm leaving as soon as Arkadia is gone.” hissed the skaikru leader angrily. 

She stormed past, brushing shoulders roughly with the commander, making Costia choke in surprise at the defiance. Her hand had already ripped away the door, and she was about to vanish through it when Lexa called her name. 

Shoulders tensing harshly, Clarke paused in the doorway, but did not turn around. 

“After Praimfaya. Our world will be transformed, and so will all of our people.” promised the commander solemnly, keeping her words low, and avoiding the curious, startled gazes of both Costia and Aden. 

“We must be sure that the changes are for the good.” murmured the skai prisa fervently, before she launched herself into motion again, disappearing from sight. 

The door bumped closed behind her, and Lexa kept her gaze on the door for a long moment before she let out a long breathe. Her homon looked at her suspiciously, but Aden simply kept staring at the door long after Wanheda had vanished, musing on what she'd told him. 

“Changes?” nudged Costia quietly. 

Lexa smiled slightly. “Later.” 

Once they separated, it wasn't until after dinner that Clarke sought out Lexa again, and of course, she found her with Titus. 

 

“Wanheda, I do not wish to ignore the altercation against your second, but there is another urgent matter I must bring to you-” began Titus calmly, surprising Clarke at the tone he took with her for once.

This was a man who'd never been more than the most unwilling of allies, yet his strong frame, mostly hidden by his solemn garb, was held at ease, and his face was smoothed out, without the taunt creasing of annoyance, or fury. The change was, Clarke realized with a sharp bite into her bottom lip, slightly... alarming. 

A marriage proposal. 

That was not what she'd expected. 

“Ulrin is the Leader of the Delfrikru. Aden's clan, and cousin.” continued Lexa stiffly, ignoring Clarke's silent meltdown despite the emotions washing over the blonde's golden face. 

Clarke's former love looked frigidly unfeeling on the subject, but the way she gripped her knife a touch too tightly for causeless spoke of the hidden emotions simmering. 

“He is twenty-nine years old, and has never married, though he was intended to a girl whom died several years ago. He took the position of leadership three years ago from his elder brother, whom was critically injured in battle. His proposal stated that he would have Wanheda share the mantle of duty to his people with him, as he would hers. The Delfrikru are a stable, prosperous clan whom would make reliable, loyal allies to Skaikru. Aden is our most promising novitiate, and so should it come to pass that he one day reigns, Skaikru would have ties of kinship to the commander.” added Titus formally. 

There was a warm, pressing encouragement that Clarke had never heard directed towards anyone other the novitiates. To have it aimed at her was as surprising as it was unsettlingly. This Titus, certainly, did not remember standing with her over the deserted body of the girl they both cared for. 

The commander failed to completely hide her reactive sneer, though she looked away from both her adviser and Clarke. 

“Ulrin kom Delfrikru also has proposed to arrange for the people of Skaikru to receive training and education of any type they desire.” added the flame-keeper smoothly. 

“That is enough!” snapped Lexa curtly. Her eyes found Clarke's again. “You don't have to do this. Trikru, and I, will match any offer he makes.” 

“Heda, Trikru does not have the ability to meet the match of husband that Delfrikru has. Trikru is known for it's female leaders at this time. Indra has offered only Caliban kom Trikru, but he leads no army nor commands no clan.” replied Titus calmly. 

“How... how many have there been?” asked Clarke slowly. 

Lexa's frown only grew, but her adviser stepped forwards to answer in her stead without hesitation. The stern flame-keeper looked almost... eager. His eyes were bright and intently upon her. Surely that did not bode well for Clarke, whom could never be called his favorite person, or even a tolerated person by him. 

“Each clan has put forth a proposal for the most prominent unattached male of their people. All are matches that include numerous benefits and advantages not just for you but for your people as well. In addition, there have been twenty-three proposals deemed unworthy of your attention due to lack of meeting, and without redeeming amount of status.” replied Titus swiftly. 

“None of which could ever possibly offer enough benefit for you to sell yourself off.” snapped the commander harshly.

Titus' eyes swept back to her, as did Clarke's. The room grew hotter as the commander's temper rose higher. 

“I do not intend to sell myself.” assured the Skaikru leader flatly. 

“Marriage is not slavery, Heda. None of these men are suggesting that they are fit to wed Wanheda unseen, without courtship nor familiarity. They are merely putting forth their interest to do so. It is respect. Rather than flocking to our city to barrage her, they are civilly sending envoys to see if she is even willing to be approached by them.” 

Titus' cool, quick words soothed Lexa's temper perhaps a touch, but not enough. 

“You are dismissed!” snarled the commander to her flame-keeper furiously. 

His face slackened, and head bowed hastily, Titus retreated, with a final speculative glance at his commander before he slipped silently through the doors. 

“This makes no sense! How could there be such a random change!” hissed Clarke in exasperation as she began to pace across Lexa's chamber after Titus' leaving. 

The commander herself, seated straight and stern on the throne, didn't comment, but it wasn't until Clarke turned around again and saw the conflicted expression that she narrowed her blue eyes suspiciously. 

“It is a change, isn't it?” demanded Clarke, stalking forwards to stand before Lexa, who's lips tightened grimly. 

“Caliban kom Trikru certainty never sought your hand before.” said Lexa impassively. 

Clarke inhaled sharply. 

“But there were proposals?” demanded the skai prisa angrily. 

It looked as if Lexa had tasted something sour, but she nodded curtly. 

“Who? The same men? When?” 

“Many of the same men, yes. They began just after you brought down the mountain. No new ones came after Arkadia slaughtered the Trikru army, and most of the previous ones were withdrawn.” 

“Every clan in good standing, not counting Azgeda nor Arkadia, has proposed for you to marry the highest ranked man appropriate. Azgeda is up to something, and I do not think the prince can be counted upon to uphold our agreement. Arkadia know nothing of the proceedings, and frankly, no other clan would be happy to see you wed from another clan besides their own, but there would be outright dissent should you marry the Arkadian chief.” explained Lexa somberly. 

“The Arkadian chief is more likely to be my step-father than my husband!” yelled Clarke, her face darkly flushed, and Lexa conceded with a grimace. 

“The safest option is for you to remain unwed, taking lovers from only among your own people. That way the possibility of a marriage alliance remains alive, and Wanheda ties herself to no other clan.” 

Narrowing her eyes, and balling her fist, Clarke scowled openly in defiance of the commander's advice. 

“I will sleep with whomever I want, and I will marry if I damn well want to!” snapped the younger leader before she spun on a heel, not even pausing to enjoy the stunned look she'd caused, to storm from the hall. 

Rushing through the tower, she found herself curled up in her bed, with Nate nudging her, and trying to get to talk, before he finally went in search of Octavia. 

“So... like every leader on Earth wants to marry you?” asked Octavia with a straight face, but something in the way her dark eyes were gleaming made Clarke suspect the other girl was amused. 

Fidgeting anxiously, Clarke shrugged. 

“Or their sons, or brothers, or war chiefs... And they're all offering tons of stuff... for all of Skaikru.” muttered the proposed bride in question helplessly.

“Wait. You're not seriously considering this crap, are you?” demanded Octavia, and she crossed the room to stand over Clarke and glower down at her friend. 

Clarke hunched over a bit more, trying to hide from the heated glare. Octavia's skin tone seemed to hide the nightblood dark flushing, just as Lexa's did, but Clarke could still detect hints of it. It was a clear indication of the other girl's temper at least, for Octavia never blushed from embarrassment. 

“It would be selfish of me not to.” answered the skaikru leader. 

“You must be out of your damn mind. We're all going into the bunkers anyway, not like it'll matter much then what they offer.” snapped Octavia, and she flung herself down beside Clarke, grabbing her arm to squeeze pointedly. 

“No way in hell, ok? Seriously!” 

“You know, I always kinda thought you and Bell...” 

“This Bell... doesn't understand me. I needed him to know, but now that he does... he'll never see me the same way. I'm like some cosmic disappointment.”

Octavia fidgeted with the sword, hanging at her hip as always, until Clarke spoke again. 

“Titus really pushed for the Delfrikru chief. Ulrin, I think?” 

The dark haired girl nodded. 

“A better leader than he is warrior, is what Polis says about him. His brother, Rian, was a better warrior than he was chief, so the Delfrikru are happy enough to have the younger brother instead. Rian came to Polis about two years ago as their ambassador, and he's alright. One of the moderates, I guess.” 

“Lexa said they are Aden's cousins?” pushed Clarke. 

“Yea. Their mother is Aden's maternal aunt. Who else?” 

“Lexa wouldn't let Titus tell me about the rest, except he let slip that Indra is going to suggest Caliban...” Clarke's words trailed off in embarrassment. 

Octavia tried to hold it in, but a snicker escaped, and then another, and soon she was laughing outright at Clarke's mortification. 

“He's old enough to be my father!” 

“Yea, so, what, you're not going to marry any of them, right?”

“I might have told Lexa I was going to marry who ever I wanted.” 

“Look, Caliban wouldn't be a bad choice. He's honorable, and determined, and he's absolutely in awe of you. If you had a thing for him, ok, it'd be fine. Like he'd spend every day damn making sure your life was good. But you don't even act like you might be attracted to him, much less like you could fall in love with him. This isn't the middle ages. You don't have to attach yourself to an alpha male, and you're not some 15th century French princess being sent off to England to seal an alliance with your cunt.” lectured Octavia seriously. 

Sputtering, Clarke jumped up, flushing. 

“Octavia!” yelped the blonde, beginning to laugh, spurning on the younger girl. 

“Honestly, what is a queen without a king? Historically, more powerful. You're better off single.” continued Octavia blithely. 

“That's basically what Lexa said.” muttered Clarke bitterly.

“Yea, well, she was saying because she wants back in your pants. I'm saying it because you've got some martyr complex and I can't let a bunch of pigheaded men convince you that you need them.” 

“I'm not... I mean...” Clarke couldn't get the words out to refute that. 

“I totally did not understand your whole thing with John, but I mean, I saw that you two seemed happy about it. So, I don't know, I get that you're... missing that. I mean, Atom, Lincoln, Ilian, in six months, right? Someone you care about dies, it's comforting to have someone new, even if it doesn't really help. But... don't marry the rebound guy just because he asks, ok?” 

Long after nightfall 

Alone in Lexa's throne room, Clarke lounged wearily among the throne she'd once sat in to enter the City of Light with Ontari's blood being pumped into her. Across the room, leaning lazily against the door, he watched, with a smirk. 

“You look good up there, Princess.” 

“You're watching me again?” asked Clarke, not knowing why those words slipped from her mouth. 

He shrugged. “Every time you think of me, I am called to you. As in life, as in death, I suppose. At least the second time around. You just don't see me when you're awake anymore because you've stepped back from the other side a bit. Keep backing away, and you won't even see me in your dreams anymore.” 

“I miss you.” 

“This isn't exactly the healthiest thing you've ever done.” 

“Not the worst either.”

“That's some standard there.” retorted Murphy dryly. 

“You know about the other life?” asked Clarke tremulously, wishing in vain for him to come closer, to feel his arms wrap around her again, just one more time. 

He snorted. “Soon as I hit the ground, my life flashed before my eyes. That really happens, you know? What a shit show. But then I was back in the Skybox, and another life hit me too.” 

Tears began to spill down her cheeks. 

“I'm sorry.” she whispered through her tears.

Murphy shook his head roughly, shrugging away her apology. 

“I got to be the good guy, for once, yea?” 

“Is this really you, or just my guilt conjuring you to haunt me?” 

“c'mon, use your head for something other than holding up your crown. If anyone could know the answer that, wouldn't it be the mighty commander of death?” taunted John Murphy so convincingly Clarke couldn't make herself remember this was just a dream.

Never feeling less like the great wanheda, Clarke sniffled, before it turned to sobs, and she felt someone shaking her, as if John had finally crossed the room to take hold of her, but she couldn't force her eyes to open..


	25. Chapter 25

The morning began even before breakfast, when Clarke rose silently to slip from her bed, where Miller quickly followed her from, though they went their separate ways once they left her room. Noticing the lack of a guard at the door, Clarke entered the room she'd been directed to the night before, and was greeted by the commander alone. Soon as she crossed the threshold, Lexa's lips curled into a slight, pleased smile. 

“Thank you for joining me.” 

With a brief glare, Clarke snapped that she had to promised to, and did not break promises she didn't have to. Attentively, the commander began to lead Clarke through a quiet, intense workout, beginning with slow, steady stretches, leading up swift moves, repeated until her muscles burned in the exertion. 

“This is like - some combination - of pilates, - martial arts, - and boot camp - exercise - dosed in - sadomasochism.” huffed Clarke as tried, both grudgingly and in vain, to keep up with the bruising pace set by Lexa. 

The commander offered her only a quirked brow and titled head, but Clarke was in no mood to explain pre-Catalyst terms to the older girl. Instead she went back to trying to control her breathing. Her goal was rapidly becoming “don't pass out.” Perhaps thirty minutes after stepping inside Lexa's private training quarters, Clarke was ready to rethink this theory that Skaikru, including herself, needed to become physically stronger. Her promise to Lexa to commit to this aim was feeling less critical with each, increasingly rapid, heartbeat. 

Swearing in a frustrated mix of English and Trig, Clarke flopped down onto the thin leather mat without a hint of dignity nor pride. As a doctor's kid, she'd been raised to keep the routine of daily physical fitness that was encouraged for all residents of the Ark. With such confined space, it had been a concern right from the beginning. But the mildly invigorating methods of pilates, zumba, and aerobics slow, in Classes, much less the calming rhythms of yoga within the privacy of her family's quarters had not prepared her to keep up with the commander who was apparently an unlimited well of endurance. 

“I'm slow, and I'm soft. This isn't working.” announced the blonde grimly, still sprawled flat on the leather, eyes closed tightly. 

Snickering softly, Lexa ceased her own sit-ups to lean over Clarke. “You are adequate as you are, but Wanheda must be strong enough to stand upon her own.” 

Lunges were hell, and Clarke swore that Lexa was not actually human after watching the commander effortlessly show her how to do them before performing it herself over and over. Squats were only slightly tolerable because even the graceful commander looked just a bit ridiculous doing them. Push-ups had Clarke back to laying on the mat, this time face down, ignoring the lightly musty smell of the leather in favor of remembering the quiet hours with her mother, moving smoothly through each pose, in stolen hours away from the med bay. 

By the time, an hour into the ordeal, that a barely sweating Lexa begun to lead her through hand-to-hand sparring, a soaked, darkly flushed, and panting Clarke had somehow passed exhaustion and adjusted to her embarrassment at being so pathetically weak compared to the commander. Maybe she'd keep her promise after all. Lexa kept the pace much slower than before, as she showed the Skai prisa different ways to throw punches, block hits, and move around her opponent carefully, having Clarke practice each new movement a dozen times or more before going on to the next, allowing them to talk more easily as they went on. 

“There is no news from Azgeda except Nia remains on her throne.” announced Lexa as she adjusting the angle of Clarke's wrist for throwing a punch. 

Flexing her hand slightly, Clarke tried the altered angle, glancing a calculated hit at Lexa's gut, not that the commander noticed except to murmur off-hand that it was well done. She absorbed the comment silently. 

“If Roan fails, then Azgeda will be left to the ashes of history.” continued Lexa after letting the other girl block a very slow punch of her own. 

“You're saying we're going to just abandon an entire clan? Refuse them their hundred beds because of their leaders?” asked Clarke even as she kept up the rhythm they'd built between them. 

“There is no room for war in the sanctuaries. We will take in more animals, and the chosen will benefit from the lack of a strife filled clan.” retorted Lexa coolly. 

“Roan was my ally. I believe he will be again.”

“Obviously he is failing to be so.”

“There was an Azgeda woman released from the mountain. She might have more loyalty to the common people, and the coalition than her queen. What is the plan for mount weather anyway? We're getting it ready, but who's going to live there?” 

“Indra will lead Mount Weather in my stead with Trikru's hundred chosen.” announced Lexa coolly. 

“Only a hundred? The mountain could support four times that easily!” 

“As I said, we will survive equally- one hundred, and no more, from every clan who keeps the faith. You suggested we bring animals in to save. So we shall do.” 

“Then we split the populations up more than that so that there's enough people to take care of as many animals as we can fit in.” said Clarke. 

“If you are not occupied while your second is training-” 

“Charlotte will not be training today.” snapped Clarke. 

“She could spend the morning with the healers as well as the afternoon.” suggested Lexa calmly. 

“Guards will stay with her.” offered the commander, though it sounded more like an order. There was so much to be done, Clarke knew she couldn't truly stay with the younger girl every moment. 

“Do not forget we shall return tonight to improve your handling of weaponry.” reminded the commander calmly, ignoring the glare Clarke tossed over her shoulder as she left as quickly as her tired muscles would carry her. 

Two hours after she'd left her room, a hot bath that smelled strongly of peppermint was waiting behind a pair of screens when she returned, and a hasty note lay on her bed from Octavia telling her to that everyone would be eating a late breakfast in their communal room. It was at least somewhat soothing that Raven, Monty, and Wick were all as worn out as she was during breakfast, but it was overshadowed by Charlotte's shifty, anxious mood. 

The moment they were out of the tower, Charlotte's spirits rose, and she led her mentor with their arms linked together, pleased to be showing Clarke around. Walking on the young girl's other side, Costia explained that the main healers center was only a few minutes walk from the tower, close enough to be well-protected by mere proximity to the commander. It was one of the few things Costia managed to say because Charlotte was eagerly chattering on about what she'd learned recently. 

“Did you know that Lemon Balm Leaf can be used as a sedative? It doesn't really grow around here, but when traders came from the south, Precep bought tons of it!” continued Charlotte brightly. 

“No, I didn't know that.” assured Clarke kindly. “Maybe I should get some to bring back to camp just in case.” 

“Oh, but I think the those traders have already left! But maybe Precep would let you have some?” mused her young second uncertainly. 

“I will ask her.” interjected Costia hastily, drawing a snicker from the younger blonde, and a questioning glance from the elder. Poorly hiding a grimace, Costia tried to explain quietly. 

“Precep is not her name. It just means a healer's teacher. Mine is Sabine kom Trikru. She is my grandfather's sister. She is a gifted healer, and teacher... but she is a... severe woman.” 

“Heda says Precep is the oldest person born on Earth!” chimed in Charlotte. 

Costia nodded vaguely. “We don't really know that, of course.” she tried to explain. “But Sabine has seen more than sixty-five years, she has tended to the commanders, novitiates, and the people of Polis for more than forty years- ever since she left Ton DC as a young woman. There may be elders who outmatch her farther away, but some have forgotten how old they are.” 

“Well, the eldest Skyborn left is just under sixty years.” offered Clarke. 

Charlotte continued on unabated, as soon as Costia paused. “Oh, Costia, please, ask Precep if she will give Clarke some fenugreek too!” 

Costia began to speak, but Clarke cut her off. “Actually, Nyko brought me a whole bag full of herbs, and already mixed remedies.” 

Charlotte, who'd grabbed Costia's arm to link theirs together as well as they walked, froze, pulling both of the older girls to a quick stop as well. 

“Aden says that all the men on Earth want to marry you.” yelped Charlotte, as if she'd just remembered.

“Is that why Nyko brought you a present?” 

Her face was screwed up anxiously, as she implored Clarke with her pleading eyes to explain. All three of the girls ignored the snorts from behind them, where Lexa's guards were stifling their reactions. 

“No!” assured Clarke quickly. “No. Nyko has not even hinted at that. His son, Artigas, is nearer to my age than he is! He's just helping to prepare for Mary's baby. Honestly, Charlotte, it's only really one man from each clan, and I haven't met hardly any of them anyway. It's just politics. Don't worry about it.” 

Charlotte gazed at her mentor for a long moment, before slowing nodding, and allowing them to tug her back into motion. They were still talking of the marriage proposals when they arrived, Costia offering discrete tidbits about each of the suitors that had the backing of their clans, and which offers had been rejected out of hand by either their own clan leader, or Titus. To know that Titus was somehow involved in all this just made Clarke chew her bottom lip anxiously. What a mess! It was interesting to hear about grounders' marriage traditions- such as that the Order of the Flame performed most marriage ceremonies, but that any village chief, and clan chief, could do so as well. Few couples actually bothered with it though- for a wedding meant a massive party, with much to do, because it wasn't seen as the norm. Only leaders, including war chiefs, and the highest ranking warriors, really bothered it much. The exception being couples from different clans. 

The healers center, that Costia explained was where all the healers could use, so long as they had the approval of the commander's chosen healer, as the heda supported the center with protection, and funding supplies. It had once been a shop, perhaps, or... an office building, Clarke mused, considering what she'd learned of pre-Catalyst Earth back on the Ark. It's thick stone walls kept it's two stories standing all this time, and though vines covered the outer wall, the scents of herbs, filled it, and Clarke knew the moment she crossed the threshold that it was a well-tended space. The front room was lightly furnished, mostly containing a wide assortment of chairs, sofas, and low pallets. On one of them, rested a woman that both Costia and Charlotte let go of each other to greet respectfully. 

The woman's skin was darker than Clarke had ever seen, absolutely ebony, and heavily wrinkled, far darker than Costia's, but there was something about their round, faces and high cheekbones that spoke of their relation. The hair that made a wispy halo of curls about her head was pure, snow white. Thin, and sharp eyed, Sabine ignored the trio of young girls to glare disdainfully as Lexa's guards did a sweep of the entire building. Only once they were done, stepping outside to where they'd wait out of the way, did the elder healer acknowledge the girls. She turned her intent gaze upon them silently.

“Precep, this is my mentor, Clarke kom Skaikru.” explained Charlotte hesitantly. 

“I am honored to meet you, and grateful for you teaching Charlotte.” said Clarke formally, her eyes set respectfully on the elder. 

“Have my ears betrayed me, or did I hear the commander is allowing men to bid on you like a mare for sale?” snapped the old healer, and Clarke jerked backwards a step in surprise, not even noticing Costia's muted sigh. 

“Well, girl, have you lost your tongue?” chided Sabine sharply. 

Clarke looked between Costia and Sabine confusedly, before jerkily shaking her head. 

“No. Um, no. Lexa is just not forbidding it, and ummm, no one is bidding on me.” stuttered Clarke awkwardly. “Titus said this was... not unexpected? But it's still my choice to accept one, or none of them.” 

Sabine snorted in disdain. “Titus would say that. Well, girl, are you actually going forth with this nonsense?” 

Clarke's mouth opened, but nothing came out, and she closed it again uncertainly. 

“I mean, I haven't even met any of them, well, except Caliban kom Trikru, so no, I mean, I'm not really... umm, I don't know. It's not like I'm making a decision anytime soon? I have not even had a chance to talk to Caliban since this came up, much less any of the rest...” she left on a questioning tilt, uncertain of her own mind, much less able to explain it. 

The old healer's eyes narrowed into slits. “Little sky princess, beware an old man in a profession most men die young.” 

Costia's groan this time was painful, but she was ignored, except for Charlotte's anxious glance. She'd taken hold of Clarke's hand, and was gripping it tightly. 

“It means that he is lucky, and brave, and strong.” retorted Clarke slowly, her temper slowly coming to rescue her from the baffled surprise. 

“Precep, Caliban is not yet forty. He could hardly be called old. Only thirty-four, I believe.” added Costia. 

“Old enough to have fathered her!” hissed Sabine in irritation. 

Clarke's stomach rolled at the thought. It wasn't like she was actually considering it, but it that comment still left her queasy. If Costia was correct about his age, he was a whole decade younger than her father, but still... sixteen years older than her. It was a generation's worth of a gap, on Earth, even if not on the Ark. 

“And crippled at that! That is who Indra sees fit to offer for a young girl as the best man available from our clan!” continued the elderly healer. 

“He is hardly crippled. The man rides, and hunts, and trains the youth as well as ever. Indra choose him because he was one of the best warriors our clan has ever boasted-” began Costia patiently. 

“Before he was left injured- unable to even defend a wife!” cut in Sabine bluntly. 

“As well as because he's actually met Wanheda many times, unlike the suitors from every other clan, and most of Trikru's own men.” continued Costia smoothly as if she had not been interrupted. 

“Bah.” muttered the elderly healer in annoyance. 

Soon as she could, Clarke excused herself, and on the way out, ordered the guards to remain behind, with Charlotte. She wasn't expecting a sly comment from one of the pair as she turned to leave. 

“I heard that old forest man is trying to court you.” said one of the guards, though the other pointedly kept his eyes fixed forwards, ignoring the exchange. 

Clarke turned back around to face him, with affront raising her brows and pursing her lips, she looked him up and down. Broad shouldered, golden skin, with little more than a hint of golden brown fuzz close cropped to his head, he couldn't be even Bellamy's age yet. So powerfully built, Clarke wondered if his biceps were thicker around than her waist, and she knew she was no sylph model of days gone by.   
A thick, raised scar bisected his right eyebrow, and forehead above it, and there were plenty of scars marring the exposed skin of his arms and legs, but still, with his classically sharp, strong features, Clarke would have called him breathtakingly handsome, if not for the smirk on his face that reeked of arrogant disdain, and self-satisfaction which soured the effect of his features swiftly. 

“And who are you?” asked Clarke curtly. 

“Wade of Blue Cliffs, warrior at Heda's command.” he replied, his smirk only widening at her sweeping gaze across him. 

Briefly glancing at his partner, she found the older of the pair with his eyes fixed skywards, avoiding the brewing scene before him. Helpful, thought Clarke dryly. 

“Hmm, well, yes, Wade of Blue Cliffs, Caliban has presented his suit on behalf of Trikru, and I have not refused it. Not than it's any of your business at all. I did notice that yours is not the name that the leader of Blue Cliffs sent to me.” retorted Clarke caustically, spinning around without hesitation, to storm off into the city. 

Instead of returning instantly to the tower, where she knew there would be yet more endless discussion of everything, everything, everything that needed attention, she found herself quietly drifting. Wandering around the city that she knew would be irrevocably changed after Praimfaya, and wishing she had time to sketch it, as it was now. Perhaps, once within the bunker, there would be time for her to try to do so from memory. It wouldn't be the same, she knew, as finding spots around the city, to sit and draw what she saw. Though she had none with her, and knew there was no time, her fingers itched for colored pencils, to capture the city, overfilled and practically bursting with liveliness in preparation for the summit. 

Arkadia Med Bay 

While Reese was once again being harassed by the doctor, cause Ms. Martin had overheard her complaining about seeing little dots, Orion let himself tune out, eyes wandering over the med bay. He'd seen way too much of it already, but now one of the beds at the back was always taken up by an old man. The oldest man in Arkadia, Orion was pretty sure someone had said. Mostly the old man seemed to sleep, but when Orion glanced at him, he was dully watching the harassment going on just a few beds away. Nothing better to watch, he supposed. 

Once the children had been rounded up by the awfully cheerful girl, the old man turned his eyes on the only other person left in the med bay. Jackson hustled across the small ward to the bedside. 

“Mr. Himura, you've got two hours before the next med round. Is there anything I can get you now?” asked Eric kindly. 

Spyros huffed, closing his eyes wearily, before a thought occurred to him. He opened his eyes to find the young doctor still gazing down at him pityingly. 

“There was a boy, from Argo Station, Jordan, sent down on the delinquent drop. What's become of him?” asked Spyros grudgingly. 

Jackson' blinked in surprise, opening his mouth automatically to respond, only to realize he didn't know the answer. Shifting slightly, he tried to remember if Clarke had ever mentioned that name at all, and couldn't think of a single time. 

“I don't know.” admitted the doctor slowly, and Spyros' huffed again, but Eric rushed to continue. “But they gave a list of the dead, and the unwell, when they came, and his name wasn't mentioned.”

“Humph. I know that, don't I? The boy never came in the wall, and the guards didn't let anyone out. And then drove off the lot of them before anything could come of it!” grumbled the older man angrily. 

Jackson' winced, but nodded politely. 

“Your grandson?” asked Jackson kindly. 

Spyros snorted. “My daughter was floated before she had a chance to give me a grandson.” 

His manner became even grimmer in a flash, and he closed his eyes tightly, ignoring Jackson' hesitant attempts to continue the conversation, till finally the young doctor murmured a quiet farewell, walking away. 

Polis tower 

The novitiates quarters were all on the same floor as Lexa's, as was Clarke's, but the other side of the building. Aden and Crest held similar furniture, but beyond that there were trinkets that hinted at their individual personalities. 

The Delphi's symbol, a circle with four equally spaced arrows pointing inwards, was carved, messily, into the wall over his bed. Clarke admired it for a moment, the first sign she'd ever seen of Aden's lingering connection to his clan. Lexa had said they must be above clan, but her obvious loyalty to Trikru could not be denied, so perhaps it shouldn't be surprising. 

“The Delfikru are sometimes thought of as... odd. By the other clans.” admitted the boy somewhat shyly, watching Clarke closely as she looked around his quarters curiously. 

She only asked “Why?” calmly, glancing his way briefly before going back to admiring his bookcase. 

“They have the least warriors, and the most... scholars, I think is the word. They build things, even for other clans, and... try... to do things in good ways... even if it is not the usual way. They collect books, and teach everyone who wants to learn how to read them. They make some too, but in our language. Other clans will sometimes trade for the books of healers, but the rest... no. The rest of our people do not believe we should keep such ties to the language of the mountain men.” explained Aden slowly, as he fidgeted with the miniature ball in his hand. 

Humming as she thought over his words, Clarke smiled at him after a moment. 

“Sounds like a good legacy to me- the clan of readers and thinkers.” 

With armor and clothes thrown about, it was messier than Clarke would have expected in a building with servants. Aden a tall, slim bookcase, nearly full of tattered, pre-Catalyst books- the titles and sizes ranging drastically from the 5th century Chinese ancient military work, The Art of War, to the early 20th century U.S. novel, Faulkner's As I Lay Dying. 

It was the largest collection of physical copies Clarke had ever seen in one place, outside of the chancellor's office on the Ark, or the medical officer's private library. Both of those were kept under security, and within preservation cabinets. Neither she nor Wells had even been allowed to handle any of the contents despite their respective parent's being the last guardians. 

They were obviously frail and falling apart, yet he invited her to enjoy them with a brief grin. With a sudden jolt, Clarke realized that except the books locked into the bunkers, there would be none to survive. Grounders didn't create books, as far as she knew, many were mostly illiterate, and she'd never seen any pre-Catalyst books being traded in the market. 

It only took a little nudging for the boy to sit up straighter and tell her about his people- the Delfikru were a bit infamous among the clans for how many of their people kept up the language of the mountain men- even teaching their children to read and write in it, unlike most were only warriors and healers ever learned it. That he'd been born on a farm, the youngest of three, and matter of factually stated that his eldest brother had died in Lexa's conclave. Most couples did not have anymore children after birthing a nightblood, but his parents had taken the risk- having his sister, whom was not blessed, before himself. They had no more after him. 

“My father brought me to Lexa when I was seven.” finished Aden easily, his cheeks a bit flushed. 

On the other hand, just next door, Crest' room was neater than the younger boy's, but one entire wall was covered in weapons ranging from delicate throwing stars to massive swords. Others were carefully laid out on a table across the room. 

Never had she imagined that she'd be threatening a child, yet here she was, standing furiously over a boy little older than Charlotte. Another line crossed. She shoved away the fear that there might be none she would not. Focusing on the second eldest of Lexa's novitiates, she met the boy's amber brown eyes. He was hardly bigger, a bit wider of shoulders, maybe an inch taller at best, than Aden. Not that it mattered much when he apparently contained enough blood-lust and ambition to attack a girl two years younger than himself. The fourteen year old nightblood glared up at her. 

“Lexa says it has been made clear the severity of your actions, but Heda does not speak for me. My second's presence here does not mean she falls outside of my protection. Touch her again, and I will teach you what it worse than death. Your blood is no more sacred than my own. I will spill it without hesitation.” 

The hard swallow that was Crest' only reaction was loud in the large, high ceiling room. 

Letting the door swing shut hard behind her, Clarke didn't look back. So she missed the ashen look to Toms kom Trikru' face. Once she was far enough away, he turned and knocked hard four times upon the door, relaxing only when his charge bellowed out “enter!”. The novitiate lived for another day. At least the kid wasn't slaughtered on his watch. 

Clarke's gut clenched anxiously more and more as the day passed without Arkadia's arrival. It was nearly sunset before a messenger arrived to her room to tell her that the delegation had been spotted, still far outside of Polis but moving, sluggishly. The tension was rising as Skaikru tried to wait without drawing attention to the delay. Clarke walked with Bellamy to have dinner with the rest of her people that were residing in the tower for now, trying to ignore how Monroe had stopped dead to wait behind, when they'd run into him. 

“They're our parents- the other half of our people, we can't just-” argued Wells once again, following Octavia, who spun around with all the vicious grace of a panther, striking a heavy backhand across the much taller, bulkier teenager's face, sending him backwards only a half-step despite her force. 

Clarke gasped out loud in surprise, and Nathan tightened up, hand going to his rifle by instinct at a blow being thrown, but Wells just clenched his jaw, staring down at Octavia without backing down. 

There was something in the way he looked at the dark haired girl, his own dark eyes and hard glare, displeased, but not surprised, that suggested to both Clarke and Nate that this wasn't the first time she'd do something like this in an argument. 

“I told you- do not hit me unless you want a fight.” reminded Wells tightly, eyes fixed solely upon her own, not bothering to reach for the sword at his hip, or to look to his best friend in appeal to Clarke for interference. 

Octavia let out a wordless hiss of frustration, but did not move to strike out at him again, staring him down, furious, and ready. 

“We can't punish people for things we think they MIGHT do.” continued Wells grimly, earning another fierce sneer from the younger girl. 

“There's proof enough in the past.” countered Octavia. 

Having seen enough, Clarke stepped to them, Nate following only a heartbeat later, moving to crowd them, Wells stepping away politely, though Octavia just watched him intently as she held her ground. 

“Ok, seriously, what the hell is this?” demanded Clarke angrily. 

Wells shrugged one shoulder with his eyes on Clarke's while Octavia kept her glare fixed upon him. 

“We don't know Arkadia's going to betray the coalition, and we're not going to lash out preemptively.” ordered the young leader, glaring at Octavia, before switching her gaze firmly to Wells. 

“But we have no reason to trust that they will keep the alliance in good faith, so we will be prepared for if they do turn.” 

“Even if they turn, we've got Jackson, and Sinclair ready to abandon ship, and we'll still flesh out our numbers with whoever we can.” added Nathan. 

 

“Look, maybe we should, grab some food and head back to our rooms.” suggested Harper awkwardly. 

“That works.” agrees Wick immediately, eyeing the others carefully. 

Following their lead, the group dispersed in pairs and trios, with Clarke tugging Wells with her, leaving, Bellamy and Octavia behind with Nathan Miller sitting firmly, yet ignoring the other two. The odd guy out with the Blake siblings began to eat without making eye contact with them, and Clarke suspected he was there to act as mediator if need be. It was probably a good idea, considering the volatility of the Blake temperaments. 

Wells followed her easily, and when the doors shut behind them, he looked around her room curiously. With a start, Clarke realized how little time he'd spent here with her, and with her at all, since they'd landed. Miller's pack was beside “his” side of the bed- nearest the door, at his silent insistence, but otherwise there was no mark of his upon the room. Clarke looked at the room, with Wells, wondering what he was thinking, and saw that in truth, she'd left very little impression on the room herself. It was almost identical to the last life, when she'd done literally nothing to change it from how it'd been presented to her. 

Curiosity seemingly sated for the moment, Wells dropped down onto the couch, and looked back at her expectantly. Still standing just within the door, she was chewing on her bottom lip, and avoiding his warm, dark eyes. Shifting her weight, she took a deep breathe... 

She announced quietly “I've been awful.” 

He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off, still keeping her eyes fixed somewhere around his worn, simple boots, that were certainly not Ark issue. 

“I blamed you, and since we've come down, I've barely even spent any time with you.” she continued tremulously. 

He tried to meet her eyes, but when she avoided him, Wells patted the couch beside him heavily. As she settled beside him, he took a moment to breathe in her presence- the aura of ceaseless will, and bottomless emotion. But she trembled lightly, just enough for him to tell, and he sighed, knowing that, in a way that was simply Clarke, she was fragile. Not like a flower, easily crushed, but like a bomb that'd use itself up taking everything around it down if it had to. Slender shoulders, bruised heart, and deep, pained eyes... were as much as part of her as that spine of steel is. Even if no one else seemed to see how the burdens shoved onto her wore her down. 

He leaned closer, taking a hold of one small, calloused hand, and when she squeezed his own in return, remembered she wasn't just fragile, but strong, too, through sheer determination to not fail. Not a girl, but a living contradiction, flesh and iron, bruises and scars. 

“You really think I don't see how tired you are? How you never stop to rest? That every minute of every day, you're doing something for someone, and it's never for you? Give me some credit, Clarke.” he chided firmly, his eyes fixed on her even though her head was bowed towards their intertwined hands. She swallowed heavily at his words. 

“But you came down here for me, and I just put you to work without bothering to spend time with you.” she whispered, the guilt of having ignored his existence, his survival, for months, as she dealt with everything, and everybody else. 

He laughed softly, but cut it off when she flinched. Lifting her head, she met his eyes finally, and bit her lip to keep back the words she wasn't sure of. 

“I miss you, but I'd rather be here being useful with my head instead of learning how to cook squirrels or carrying water all day, alright?” insisted Wells, nodding at her when she quirked her lips up hesitantly. 

“Is Octavia too much to deal with?” asked Clarke quietly, her eyes wide and worried.

He laughed again a bit, but shrugged when she kept watching him closely. 

“Arkadia's her sticking point, I guess, but she's not so bad about most stuff. I can handle it.” he assured her. 

As she continued to eye him doubtfully, he slung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to his side. Stiff at first, she slowly melted into the embrace, and let the bout of nerves ease off. They sat together there in the quiet, the only sounds disturbing them being the tinkling of the wind chimes in the night's breeze, and the distant noises of life from beyond her room. Wells lowered his head to rest against hers, and they soaked in the comfort of their long friendship. 

“Something is bothering you, though, isn't it?” asked Clarke quietly, but he noticed her voice was more normal now- brisk and assured, without the wobbliness of before. 

He shrugged ever so gently, not jostling her hard. 

“Wells...” 

“Our hotheaded excuse for a diplomat aside...” he trailed off as the admittance cost him too much.

As he stalled, he slipped his hand into her hair to twirl one messy slim braid through his fingers. She waited patiently, but wasn't about to let him off the hook. It was bad enough that Nathan was obviously hiding something that was bothering him, she couldn't stand to let Wells do it too. 

“It's probably nothing.” offered the one-time chancellor's son. 

Her huff was enough to let him know she wasn't buying it. 

“I admit I am slightly... concerned... with Charlotte's... stability.” hedged Wells slowly, and quietly, and Clarke's stomach lurched sharply. Bile rose in her throat in panic, and he pulled her to him in a hug as soon as he saw the ashen look taking over her face. 

“I'm sorry! It's nothing, really! Shit, I didn't mean it.” rushed Wells, squeezing her tightly, even as she gasped, trying to get her panic reined in. 

“Why?” she yelped as soon as she could make herself force the word out.

“Look, it's nothing. Seriously. I'm sorry.” 

“Why?” insisted Clarke anxiously, her hands gripping his arms so tightly he could feel her nails biting through the coarse fabric of his sleeves. She pulled back from his hold far enough to look at him, and he looked stricken. She shook off the panic that had hit so hard, and tried to smile at him, needing to know whatever had... caused this. 

With Wells gone, and nothing settled, Clarke quickly choked down a bit of the bundle of bread and roast she'd grabbed before fleeing the common room. Now she still had to meet Lexa. 

Thankful that the commander had only nagged her for an hour about proper use of a bow and arrow, which Clarke refused to admit she actually preferred over a sword, Clarke hastened back to her room, worn out too much to bother going look for her people to see if Octavia had calmed down, or if the rest were settled for the night. Instead she laid down alone, her mind still churning over the unanswered worries, and curled up into her bed... as she tucked her hand beneath her pillow, it brushed against something, and she flinched. Taking hold and pulling whatever it was out swiftly, she stared at it in confusion. Merely a single piece rough paper, clearly grounder-made, with just one line written across it. 

“Prisa, keep faith. From the ashes, we will rise.”

The tight, slanted handwriting was a far cry from the Times New Roman-style script most common on the Ark. With the spiritual phrase, and the title used for her... it had to be a grounder... but who? Falling into an uneasy sleep, she kept a hold of the note, safe beneath her furs. So exhausted was she, that when Nate entered the room she rolled over, but didn't wake. Dropping his boots with a muted thud, he crawled into the bed, but left a space between them.


	26. Chapter 26

Day 99 

Polis, Early Morning 

“Orders are orders.” teased the brunette with a wicked smirk, and her dark eyes bright with mischief. 

“You've got a hot date with Octavia.” she continued as she stretched leisurely on the bed still. 

“Don't forget yours.” grumbled Wick. 

Snickering, Raven watched as Wick shuffled reluctantly towards the door of their room. 

“Well, then, I'm just gonna go get my ass kicked by a girl nine years younger than me...” 

“Shouldn't be a problem for you seeing as you intellectually get your ass kicked by a girl seven years younger than you on a regular basis.” retorted Raven smugly. 

He scowled, before throwing her a little grin. “Ouch, Wrench Monkey. Love you too.” he muttered as he turned for the door and left without anymore lingering. 

So he missed the startled look on her delicate face, and the way her muscles froze, making her look like an oddly dressed statue.

Arkadia 

“I need to use the radio.” announced Jackson hesitantly. 

Looking up in surprise, Sinclair blinked at him a few times. 

“What? Why? What's wrong?” demanded the chief engineer rapidly when he'd processed Jackson's announcement. 

Shaking his head, Jackson raised his hand in a placating manner. 

“Nothing's wrong, but a patient is wanting an update on one of the delinquent's status-” 

“Parent?” asked Sinclair. 

When Jackson replied in the negative, the engineer, and guardian of the only working long-distance radios, frowned again. 

“They are still minors according to the Exodus charter. We can't be giving away information about them to just anyone.” 

“Look, it's up to Clarke, and you know they aren't residing under Exodus law.” 

“Wait for Kane. It's not an emergency, and he ordered radio silence until his return unless it was an emergency.” 

Polis, Mid-day 

“Peace has come to the land just in time for us to survive together.” murmured Lincoln.

Octavia was curled languidly within his arms. The barracks offered little privacy, dozens of tiny rooms with barely a pallet on the floor, with thin walls and ill-fitted doors, but at least there wasn't a twelve year old likely to wander in. At mid-day, at least there was hardly no one, awake, inside, and those that were had similar distractions. 

“We'll see if it holds.” muttered the skaikru girl lazily. 

“It must.” rumbled Lincoln, pulling her into his arms once again. 

“The heda before Lexa would have taken only twelve hundred of his people, and locked the doors without a thought. He was Trikru, from a village not far from Ton DC.” he continued after breathing in her presence a moment. 

“Arkadia would've done the same without Clarke's interference.” admitted Octavia. 

“Either way, we would not be together.” murmured Lincoln lowly, squeezing her more tightly to his chest. She returned the ardor swiftly, there was still an hour at least till she had was expected back inside the tower. 

Polis, Late Afternoon

Walking with Clarke and Aden openly through Polis was an experience, thought Octavia dryly. Both the novitiate and the sky princess were fairly recognizable, fair in a world where hair was expected to be some shade of brown, and together, they drew too much attention to suit Octavia. It was good for Clarke, and thus Skaikru, to be seen in the novitiates presence, though. If they were not trustworthy, they wouldn't be allowed anywhere near the sacred children, much less out of Lexa's proximity, without even guards watching over them. It was to the combination of Octavia's sword, and Clarke's loyalty, that the boy was entrusted. 

“Your father is the Arkadian chief, right?” asked Aden curiously.

Octavia grimaced slightly, but nodded to Lexa's favorite. 

“We're not exactly close. He had my mother executed.” brushed off Octavia grimly. 

Obviously, the Delfikru boy had already heard of that, because he let it pass without question as he turned to Clarke. 

“And your mother is an adviser?” asked the boy of Clarke. 

Clarke shrugged. “Probably, but they've changed their arrangements suddenly at times, so I don't know if she's coming.”

“And she had Clarke's father executed. And Wells' father'll probably be here and he was the one who actually did the executions. So don't expect this to be some cozy reunion.” cautioned Octavia. 

The boy nodded seriously to her, even as Clarke sighed- knowing Octavia's words were true, and dreading it. 

Nearing Dusk, Entry Point of Polis City Limits

Arkadia was made to walk to the summit, though Indra and her people walked with them as escort, guide, and watchers, at Lexa's order. Supposedly this was because while Lexa knew Clarke and Octavia were already riders, the Arkadians had no experience and thus could not trusted. Horses were valuable, and to mistreat one, even through ignorance, was a grave crime. Having accepted that line with a snort, Clarke let it go. More likely it was a silent show of how favored Clarke was compared to Arkadia that the grounders would notice. However, since Skaikru had arrived mostly leading their horses on foot, Clarke wasn't sure they'd gone according to Lexa's plan anyway. 

Kane had promised to be the one that accepted the brand, but things had a way of going wrong, quickly, so Clarke remained on edge as she waited. At her side, Octavia stood like a predator awaiting her prey, all silent poise and lethal concentration. Her ambassador wasn't even as confident as Clarke about this. The entry to the city was quiet except for their pointedly measured breathing. Aden though, was a more curious, and at least somewhat more relaxed presence, at her other side. He was there as Lexa's representative, though Clarke wasn't sure if Arkadia would know that. 

Several slow, heavy footsteps announced arrivals, and the trio tensed up. Octavia's hand rested on her sword's hilt, while Aden and Clarke merely tensed up. The skai prisa knew that Aden's hand would be quicker on the draw than either her or even Octavia, if need be, despite his hands staying at his sides for now. 

While Indra's people didn't look any worse for wear, the Arkadians were a mess. They'd been walking for several days, of course. Even now, the day was nearly over, sunset quickly approaching. Caliban, at Indra's side, nodded solemnly to Clarke when their eyes met, and she smiled in return. 

“We made camp about a half-mile back, and left all of our weapons there.” assured Kane. 

Indra gave a single curt nod at his side corroborated his explanation. 

“We will be sleeping there each night.” added Theolonious stiffly. 

Clarke and Octavia shared a quick glance over Aden's head at Jaha's comment, but otherwise ignored it. 

“Let's get to Lexa then, and we can show you around tomorrow before the summit.” replied Clarke. 

As Clarke watched Marcus Kane slowly, awkwardly, kneel before the commander, Clarke felt a ripple of relief wash over her. They'd done it. Arkadia was here, ready to join the coalition, and work together to survive. 

“Arkadia has been given a room for their meals, just two doors down from Skaikru's common room.” 

“Arkadia will eat with Skaikru tonight.” announced Clarke. 

The little serving girl, with a boy on her heels who Clarke had seen around the tower, always slipping out of sight, walked shyly into the room. Octavia prodded the restless group forwards into following the girl. Clarke stalled, watching as the Arkadians were swept away to be shown their room, and her own people more slowly dispersed. 

“Would you join us for dinner tonight?” asked Wells quietly.

Gaia frowned at him, raising her brows skeptically. 

“I am neither Skaikru, nor Arkadian.” she pointed out dryly. 

He grinned. 

“Maybe that's a good thing.” he teased lightly. 

Smirking, she glanced away, to where her mother stood, head leaning in towards heda's ear. 

“Why?” asked the Trikru girl curiously. 

Wells grinned slightly again, but shrugged. “It's going to be awkward, and probably either too much talking, or hardly any. But it's my father, Clarke's mom, and Nate's dad. So it's kinda more family get-together than political thing. Hell, even Octavia's father, but don't mention that, alright?” 

Titling her head slightly, Clarke considered not just his words, but the man in front of her. She didn't love him, or even really care much about him either way- except that he is alive, and an ally, this time. Love hadn't done all that much for her parent's marriage, however. Or Kane and CC's long years together, ended in a middle of the night floating. At least she did not find him unattractive. Not exactly her type, but then again, that also hadn't done all that much for her. Without question, she respected him... even trusted him, so much that it surprised her. Even in the life before, he'd tried to keep her alive, because she was both healer and fighter, a contraction he could respect. He hadn't lived long enough to see her irradiate the mountain the first time, so she knew his opinion of her didn't rest solely on that terrible war crime. 

“Never before has there been a woman of your status up for grabs like this. Azgeda kept it's princesses under tight rein, marrying them off to only the highest of the royal guards. Nitblidas do not marry, novitiates, and commanders at least. For the flamekeeper to announce that those born in the sky are not subject to the vows that the nitblidas of the ground are has created a frenzy. To have a nitblida bride means nitblida children, and the chance to have their child become commander. Your ambassador will fall under such fire whenever her dalliance with the boy comes to an end, and your second will warrant the same in time. That you are the mountain slayer, the very commander of death, too, only fuels the lust. If you show yourself... entangled with someone, anyone, then the pressure will ease, until you are believed to be free again.” 

“Nathan shares my room since we returned to Polis. Isn't that enough for everyone to back off?”

Caliban smirked. “Your adviser has made his way through enough of the Polis' youths that unless there is some definite show of affection between you, he is no shield.”

She hadn't known about Miller's dalliances in the capital, but then again, she realized, he had no idea that Argo might still show up, his boyfriend from the Ark in tow. Last time, he'd been sequestered around the delinquents and the Ark Fall population... this time, apparently, he had better options. 

“I'm not going to lead someone on just because I want people to not thinking about me being.. available.” declared the sky girl definitely, her chin having raised up as she decided it. 

Caliban smirked at her. 

“Your people are so soft. Trikru men would not tremble at sparing you from the attention of the coalition. Mountain Slayer, consider my words.” 

She grimaced uncertainly, but tried to brush off her discomfort. Bowing his head, he moved around and was off. As she neared the common room, Thelonious appeared, and his sharp gaze locked in on her immediately. 

“Clarke, may I speak with you... privately?” asked Thelonious quietly. 

A tete-a-tete with her godfather was not on her itinerary today, but Clarke conceded as gracefully as possible. Of course he made her regret it. Afterwards, gritting her teeth, Clarke walked in at his' side as calmly as she could, trying to keep the fury off her face, and when Wells turned at their entrance, from Gaia's side, with a wide smile, she did her best to return it. 

“Dad, may I introduce Gaia kom Trikru, Novitiate of the Order of the Flame, and daughter of Ambassador Indra of Trikru?” 

Though Gaia's looked a little hesitant, Wells' face was shining with eagerness, and Clarke flushed slightly at the obvious affection he had for the flamekeeper's scout. His father saw it just the same, and stiffly eyed the girl. 

“Nice to meet you.” said Thelonious impassively, with his eyes returned to Wells' quickly, not even seeing the solemn nod from Gaia in acknowledgment. 

Into the quiet, Clarke's sharp inhale drew glances, and Wells looked between his father and his best friend, reading them. It was so unbelievable that he couldn't even trust his own senses, but instead had to see Clarke's- to be sure he understood correctly. His father, snubbing the only girl he'd ever introduced to him. 

“The Order of the Flame takes only the cleverest of those who apply. Gaia is one of the few.” interceded Octavia sharply, wondering if Thelonious would have been brave, or stupid, enough to so snub the girl if Indra had been present. 

Surprise flashed across Wells' face, before gratitude, as he looked to Octavia. Gaia was pointedly looking at the floor rather any of them. 

“How nice.” murmured Thelonious coolly. 

Clenching his jaw, Wells glared at his father before turning away. 

It was quiet, awkward, and stiff, with stilted conversations, and long, gaping pauses. 

Not the worst it could be, however. 

A few extras chairs had been hastily crammed into the little common room, and the odd circle was widened with them. Her mother sat very close to Kane, whom Octavia ignored with an absolute finality, and chattered nervously about everything she could think of. To her other side, was Thelonious haltingly asking Wells about the city. The younger Jaha was answering smoothly, but refused to even glance at his father. David Miller was hushed, but eagerly listening to every word his son uttered. Bryne and the younger guard were silent, eating slowly, and keeping their eyes on the door. Lincoln was likewise absolutely silent, but sat very close with Octavia, though Wells and Gaia kept a greater space between them, their eyes were often on the other. Not a terrible gathering, just... fragile... a delicate balance, that Clarke began to hope, was the beginning of something good for them all. 

It was so innocent, what destroyed it. 

Lovely face, and pretty eyes so confused, her head swiveling around the room. Gaia tried to figure out what she'd said wrong. 

“What?” hissed Abby Griffin again, her eyes still narrowed to slits, and Kane looking horried beside her, both sitting straight up again, after having relaxed into the comforts of the century-old sofas.

Understanding her mistake too late, Gaia was stricken- biting her lip, and looking to Wells with wide, regretful eyes. He reached for her hand, and held it snugly, but looked to Clarke instead. 

Reading his plea, Clarke forced herself to speak into the icy silence.

“She said the suitors should not approach you, but if they do, turn them away.” repeated Clarke, with her tone as flat as the look in her eyes that she fixed solely upon her mother. 

The Arkadians collectively took in the words, now that they'd been said by someone other than a grounder. 

“You cannot be serious.” breathed out Abby. 

Kane tried to head off the impending argument. “Are you... do you mean... that is to say- actual marriage suitors?” 

“It's not Arkadia's business.” announced Octavia. 

“I would think any... Coalition matter would be Arkadia's business, if we are to commit-” Jaha's words were broken by Octavia's bark of “IF?”. 

“It's not a Coalition issue-” - Clarke. 

“Are you being forced into this?” pressed Bryne, speaking for the first time. 

“Do you think we'd allow her to be forced into anything?” demanded Nathan Miller. 

“No one is forcing anyone into anything.” added Wells urgently, eyeing the explosive tempers rising swiftly on either side of the room. 

“You can not possibly be considering this.” asserted Abby, ignoring the rest of them completely to keep her focus on her daughter, skeptical, and irritated. 

Clarke flushed darkly, her impassive look bleeding into frustration, and she swpt her gaze around the room, mortified to be having this argument in front of so many. Lincoln was impassive as ever, but Gaia had shrunk within herself, with her hands gripping her robes tightly. David and Kane both looked mostly baffled, and perhaps concerned... but Bryne looked nearly as censoring as her mother. Her own people, Nathan and Octavia were obviously angry, while Wells was hiding his feelings on the matter well, and the others were stunned, not having known yet either. 

Oh, but Bellamy... Clarke cringed. He'd been uncharacteristically silent, and she could swear his jaw was clenched so harshly it must be painful, but the furious look in his eyes promised that he wasn't even aware of it. She should have told him, all of her people, before they could find out like this... 

“This is my business. I'll damn well do it if I want to.” 

Jerking up off the couch, Bellamy's fists were clenched at his sides. 

“Of course you will.” he scoffed. 

“Excuse me?” asked Clarke, turning away from her mother's shocked stare yet again, to let her eyes fall on him again. 

“You'll do whatever you want, regardless of what I say even though-” 

“And why should she listen to you!” hissed Octavia, coming to stand in her brother's face. 

“How can we just let them keep dragging us deeper and deeper into their ways!” roared Bellamy. 

“Look, I get your heroic bullshit, but this is different.” - Bellamy 

“I'm not claiming to be a hero! But I actually have a choice here. Choices, actually. Nobody's life is on the line. I just get to make a decision for myself for once. Can't you see that?” - Clarke

“We will not be entering the coalition if this is what it brings.” threatened Abby in a low hiss. 

At her side, Kane stiffened up even more so. “We're not throwing away the alliance.” 

“It's a little late to back out.” agreed David Miller in his low, but firm voice that reminded Clarke a lot of his son. 

“We aren't even armed. There's no way to fight our way out of the city. At best, we could discretely maneuver.” - Bryne 

“Have you lost your mind?” - Octavia 

“My daughter is not a trophy to be vied for!” - Abby

“She's right here and can speak for herself!” 

“This doesn't change anything for tomorrow!” 

“Like hell it doesn't!” - Bellamy 

Bellamy's glass soared across the room, shattering against the far wall behind the Arkadian's heads, and silence had barely fallen when the doors slammed open- commander's guards rushing in. 

Later 

The bells on her anklets echoed in the temple's empty corridors. The sacrilege she was forced to tolerate each day had worn on her until she felt the need to remind herself of her own faith. 

Gaia kom Trikru had been raised to be a warrior, and a leader among warriors. She'd gone off that path at sixteen when she'd left her home to come to Polis, and to the temple of the Order of the Flame. A grueling year where her faith was tested had passed before she was accepted into the lowest ranks of the Order- a scout. She'd never dreamed of being the flamekeeper, but she'd made her intention to become a priestess known. Barely two years, and not a single nightblood discovered, had then passed as she traveled the land, not once returning to her home, though she saw her mother occasionally on her trips to Polis to report back. So she'd been awed, and baffled, by the change in her duties when she'd returned to Polis for her normal every other month report, by the Flamekeeper announcing her that she was now to remain in the capital, and her training as a novitiate would now be to further her studies as a priestess directly under the flamekeeper's hand. At first, she'd blamed her interfering mother- all across the land, everyone knew that Indra kom Trikru had the ear of the Heda. Even then she'd not expected to spend so much time in the heda's tower, watching the flamekeeper's tutelage of the nightbloods, and observing the heda herself. When she'd dared to ask what had changed, Titus had only told her that it was by order of the heda. 

To find herself in the same room with Wanheda... Gaia could not believe it. Even knowing that the Skaikru ambassador was... growing fond of herself had not made her more comfortable in the presence of the princess whom was his leader, but also the commander of death upon Earth. A mere princess was nothing to be in awe of, but Wanheda... 

Reverently, Gaia sunk down to her knees, bowing lower until her forehead brushed the freshly swept floor. Nothing made sense, but this. Her faith in the flame. With Heda and Wanheda proclaiming the end of the world as they knew it in a hundred days time, she had never needed her faith so badly as now. And the fourteenth clan... they would bring only troubles to the coalition. Wanheda might lead her people into the ways of Earth, but Arkadia was not so inclined. 

If she herself had caused the alliance to fracture before it could even be sealed... with praimfaya looming... what had she done? 

Polis, Evening 

Swords clashing, Clarke faltered, but struggled and succeeded to stay on her feet. The smug, amused smirk on the commander's face was incentive to persevere at least. If only she could manage to knock the damned blade from Lexa's hand, as the other girl so often did to her. 

As if she could hear Clarke's thoughts, Lexa smirked even wider. 

“You are improving.” assured the commander placating. 

“Not enough.” huffed the blonde, glaring, and trying to circle around. 

Lexa just quirked her lips in amusement again.

“You have too many duties to spend the time you need training. It is why my people train children from a young age. Before they have other obligations.” explained the commander lightly. 

“I'd have more time if you'd let me train with your guards too.” 

Only in the privacy of Lexa's personal chambers or her own would the commander allow Clarke to train, and only with her, or another of Skaikru. 

“Wanheda must not be seen at a disadvantage.” declared the commander firmly, yet again, as she had anytime Clarke suggested any other arrangement. 

“Ugh! I am fairly certain you people can just look at me, and know I'm a total novice with anything physical defense.” retorted Clarke. 

“You need to step more into the light of your power, to show you are a leader among all people, not just your clan.” 

“All the clans see me as Wanheda since the mountain, don't they? Isn't that enough?” whispered Clarke guiltly. 

“No.” declared Lexa. “Until they see you as a leader they would follow in my stead, it is not enough. You must make them respect you as my equal. In this life, you have not obliterated a Trikru army in moments. They do not fear you, nor lust for your power, as greatly as before.”

Clarke snorted. 

“You are Wanheda, but Wanheda must be greater than a commander if she is to hold the world together with her own two hands.” 

“I'm never going to be a fighter half as good as even your most pathetic guards. There are probably five year olds who could disarm me!” 

“Then you must kill your adversaries before the fight can even begin.” 

“Lexa, isn't my soul drenched in enough blood?” 

“Skaikru must step, fully, into their potential if we are all to survive together. Your most important people need to be able to defend themselves as well. Octavia shall begin training the great minds of Skaikru in order to not leave them helpless as babes without their guns.” 

“I had three ambassadors find me today, asking if there was anything they could... assist me with.”

“They are rabid in the pursuit of Wanheda for their clans. Who dared?” snarled Lexa, instantly furious. 

“Why now? Why is this happening like this?”

“I made no secret of my... claim upon your attention, in the life before. You stayed at my side when in Polis, when I met with the advisers, you were the Skaikru ambassador, so it was not questioned... but you stood at my side often enough, that not even the most foolish dared to approach you. Except Roan. But I suppose you were plotting rather than flirting.” 

Slipping quietly nearer the door she'd rarely entered, Costia listened to the low, hushed hum of their voices. Too low to decipher the words. Yet their voices recognizable, just barely. Once again, Lexa was hold up, alone, to speak with the skai prisa. Opening the door, Costia beheld the sight. The pair, so different, laid out on the floor, on their backs, on tough leather mats, their feet pointing opposite directions, but heads beside each other. Close enough to speak, or kiss. 

Lexa greeted her calmly without raising even her head, merely turning to look over at her, but the blonde startled. Flushing as she jumped to her feet, Clarke looked everywhere but at the young Trikru healer. With hardly a word of excuse, she edged warily around the other two to escape. 

“Clarke!” yelled the commander, but the blonde was gone- hurtling from the room. 

Stiff as a statue, Costia remained, just inside the door, staring. 

Reaching out to pull the other girl into her arms, Lexa tried to push all her heart's weakness into the embrace. 

“Stay with me tonight.” she quietly suggested, with her face pressed into Costia's neck. 

Just outside the commander's private training rooms 

Running full tilt, not towards her bedroom, but fleeing the tower all-together, as if the hounds of hell were on her heels, Clarke didn't even see Nathan, entering the tower from the dark city. When she hit him, he stumbled back a step, and wrapped his arms instinctively around her to keep her from rebounding onto the ground. 

“Clarke?” asked the gruff boy.

Maybe Nathan- “you know, it's easier to do the body guard gig when I know where you are”. 

Clarke sniffed, trying to pull her composure back together, and muttered an apology in a hoarse voice as she stepped back out of his arms. 

“What's wrong?” rumbled Nathan solemnly. 

Shaking her head roughly, Clarke pressed her eyes closed tightly, blinking back tears, before she stiffened her back and released a slow, long breath. When her darkened eyes opened again, she'd gotten herself under rein. 

“No, thank you.” 

“You know, whatever you need, I've got your back.” insisted the Skaikru adviser after a moment of gazing at her carefully. 

Out of her control, her lips twitched in a quick smile. It was one of the longest sentences Nathan had said to her, in this life. 

“I've just realized that it might really be... better.. for everyone... if I do marry after all. Safer. Simpler.” she confessed in what was meant to be a light, joking tone, but was marred by the paleness of her face, and the haunted look in her wide eyes. 

Nathan Miller was not fooled, though she'd pasted a teasing grin on her face. In front of her, he took a step closed, even as he began scanning the area around them swiftly, his hand moving to his sword's hilt. 

“Are you injured? Did someone threaten you?” he demanded. 

“No, no, nothing like that-”

“I heard Wade Blue Cliffs was bothering you-” 

“It's not that. I just... The commander...” Clarke's voice cut off, not knowing how to explain, but it took only a moment for recognition to brighten in his eyes. 

“There are good men lining up for a chance to have the princess who fell from the sky to defeat the mountain. But you do not need a man to hide behind. If any woman can, you have the strength to stand on your own.” 

Her flight out of the tower, into the openness of the city, forgotten, Clarke stood still, trying to decide what had just happened. 

“The summit is tomorrow. Then you can go home, and there'll be no Arkadia trying to take over. No random grounders talking about marriage and alliances. No commander making you nuts. Ok? Just hang on. Let's get through this, and you spend as much time as possible at camp until praimfaya. Things will calm down after.” whispered Nathan into her ear as he held her together. 

“I can't just leave you and the others to get ready-” 

“We've got it covered. Hell, we could be moved in within an hour right now if we damn well had to. You go whip camp back into shape, and we'll call it even.” 

Clarke sniffed hard again, but nodded, stepping out of his embrace though she kept one of her arms looped through his. 

Less than twenty-four hours till the summit, and the alliance would be secured. Arkadia would have their hundred beds, and they'd just have to wait out the next three months, keeping things under control. She could do this. 

Hundred Camp, During the Night

Jasper grinned in relief as the door to the cabin was secured for the night, and hurried into the dropship. The night watch was on duty, and all was well. Hard to believe they'd been on Earth nearly 100 days now, he mused. 

Slipping away from his watch post was as easy as he knew it would be. With the geek and Atom in the silent dropship, it was his chance. They were back to five guys on watch over night with Blake gone, but they spread out so much there was no one close enough to see him.


	27. chapter 27

Day 100, Ton DC 

Roused from her bed in the dark hours before dawn, she stared down at the body that had been roughly dropped at her feet. Her eyes narrowed sharply as her jaws clenched. Sleep was forgotten in her irritation. 

“What is the meaning of this?” 

The man before her lowered his eyes quickly from her pointed glare. 

“He was caught trying to enter the mountain.”

“He was Skaikru! The crippled boy.” hissed Anya. 

“Orders were to keep everyone out, and away, until Wanheda, or her general return. The boy refused to leave, and tried to push his way in.” explained the warrior gruffly.

A dagger, Trikru made, Anya was sure, was thrown down on top of the blood soaked corpse. The sky people carried many Trikru weapons, gifted to them by Heda herself. It was no proof. Yet... orders had been given. 

'Pray Wanheda does not have your soul along with your head for this.” decided the chief, washing her hands of her perhaps foolish clansman. 

She turned to her second. “Summon the healer, and have him deal with the body. It is to be returned to his people, but tell them nothing. It is for Wanheda to hear first.” 

Polis 

Two raps upon the door, a long pause, then three more... Easing it open, he found as expected the room still and dark. Small and nimble, Nim slipped quietly inside Wanheda's chamber, setting a lantern down to light the dark room before carrying first the tray of light nourishment- warm bread, and cold, sweet juice to gently set it down on the low table. Creeping back to outside the doors, he retrieved the heavy hug of water for washing up to place on a side-table, and then flitted around the room, ignoring the rustles of the bed's occupants as they began to stir, to hastily light candles. The morning wake-up routine completed, he vanished from the room as quickly as a bird.

Burrowed deep beneath thick woven blankets and a heavy fur, Nathan Miller grunted as he tried to avoid waking up, but found his face buried in a tangled mass of hair that even half-asleep he couldn't ignore any longer. Beside him, with her back pressed warmly against him, Clarke moaned as she began to tentatively stretch. Her body protested the early wake-up, and the recent days of increased abuse. 

“Gonna miss being smothered by your hair every night when you get hitched.” muttered Nathan wearily after pulling a long stray strand of gold from his mouth as he sat up. 

She grumbled, her own face still half-covered up, as she tried slowly to ease the soreness her body held. 

“You're hilarious. Ready to talk about those dreams yet?” she retorted when she finally raised her head up enough to speak. 

He ignored her except for a snort that escaped before he could stop it, and swung his legs out of the bed to cram on the waiting boots. 

Standing with his back nearly against the wall opposite her doors, Caliban was waiting for Clarke when she and Nathan emerged the next morning, before dawn. Clarke's smile in greeting caused his stiffness to ease a bit. 

He greeted them each respectfully, and informed them that he himself would be fetching the Arkadians to escort them back to the tower. 

“They are slow moving, but they should be present by the time you are ready to deal with them.” finished the Trikru warrior gruffly. 

Thanking him, Clarke said farewell to both her own clansman, and the Trikru, before warily making her way to meet Lexa again for her semi-voluntary morning torture session. 

Hundred Camp, a little past dawn 

“We've uhhh got a problem. Maybe.” ventured Jasper, trying to keep his voice low. 

From his post, leaning against the wall beside the gate, watching the bustle of breakfast, bits of roasted meat from the night before with a lumpy, porridge of sorts topped with a handful of berries being handed out by the groggy camp crew, Atom's eyes fixed upon Jasper quickly. 

“What?” he asked. 

“Um... well, it looks like... Derek is... umm... unaccounted for.” stuttered Jasper uncertainty.

With a frown, Atom straightened up.

“What do you mean- unaccounted for?” pushed the taller. 

Jasper shrugged, looking helpless. “Not in his tent. Nowhere to be found in camp. His roommates said the was there when they went to bed last night, and they don't know anything else. When camp crew got to work, they realized he was missing. Mary got worried and went looking.” 

Groaning, Atom looked around the camp slowly, as if hoping to disappear the errant delinquent sitting somewhere waiting for his portion of breakfast instead of helping dish it out. 

He was disappointed. Walking away from Jasper without another word, Atom headed off into the cabin to rouse last night's watch. Surly at the wake-up call not long after they'd been relieved, Atom grabbed a hold and shook the lot of them, one by one, till they all stood in a sullen row to be questioned. 

When they reconvened at the gate eventually, Jasper looked up at the older boy hopefully. 

“The watch didn't see him leave last night.” muttered Atom, more to himself than to Jasper. 

“What do we do?” asked Jasper anxiously. 

Atom looked back at the chemist, meeting his eyes warily, and wondered why the hell Bellamy had left them in charge. 

Day 100 Arkadia Morning 

Not surprised to see them already there, he walked into the med-bay to start the day with a grin on his face. The table Clarke and the Miller kid had set up remained, and the trio of orphaned kids were huddled around one of the precious few surviving tablets under Gina's watch. The doctor could faintly make out the video of an arithmetic lecture being played. Greeting the kids hastily, he received a cheerful wave from Lyra, and a sleepy grunt from Orion that may have been intended to mean good morning, but the older girl kept her forehead planted onto the table in front of her- seemingly sound asleep. Stifling a grin at the antics she would have never gotten away with in lessons on the Ark, he turned away from the kids to focus on Gina who'd greeted him with a lazy smile as soon as he'd come in. 

“It's today.” said Jackson. 

Though he wasn't smiling, his dark eyes were bright as he reminded her. 

“Tonight.” corrected Gina with a flash of a smirk as she continued stripping the soiled hospital cots of their patchy coverings. The only overnight patient, the old man, was still snoring heavily, and she'd leave his bed till last as usual. 

He rolled his eyes lightly at her slight correction. 

Late Morning 

Rather than follow the awkward little tour that was happening, Zoe and Harper dropped back from the group as they left the tower. Spying an empty space not far from the entrance, they settled down sitting on the ground with their backs to wall, and the sun shining down through heavy white clouds. Cold, but pretty. Snickering, they watched their people disappear into the crowd of the markets. 

“That's going to be fun.” gasped Zoe as she tried to stifle her laughter back down. 

“Yep, right up until Octavia kills somebody.” quipped Harper, leaving against her friend even as they shook with their mirth. 

“Wouldn't mind if she took a swing at her brother.” grumbled Zoe as she lost her humor, glaring now at the direction that Bellamy's dark curly hair had vanished from sight.

“You gonna forgive him?” asked Harper, eyeing her friend side-ways. 

Zoe Monroe shrugged her shoulders, bumping the other girl without a care. 

“He's too busy to even care that I'm pissed.” 

As the conversation fell off, they watched the market, and were in turn, eyed curiously by many. Still paler than normal for Earth despite the tans they'd picked up over the past months, with their worn Ark-issue clothes, they attracted attention just by existing. 

At the closet stall, a man pulled off a thick brown sweater, tossing it onto a nearby box, as he began to roast fish over a hot coals. Without it, they could easily see the thick, black markings inked into the dark skin of his arms and chest. 

Glancing away from him, Zoe frowned, nudging Harper. 

“We're the only ones without besides little kids that aren't tattooed” 

Rolling her eyes, Harper didn't even bother looking away from where she was still watching the nearest stall. 

“You don't know that. Everyone's all covered up.” 

Zoe harrumphed, still eyeing everyone who passed within sight. 

“Still. We need tattoos. It's like... adopting the culture, right?” 

Harper snickered. 

“Think Clarke could learn to do them?” insisted Zoe.

“Dunno. She's never around. I bet Monty could do it.” suggested Harper carelessly. 

“We could come up with a symbol for us, and put that somewhere everyone can see it.” mused Zoe excitedly. 

“A constellation?” offered Harper. 

“Or a comet.” countered Zoe. 

Tossing ideas back and forth, they kept a watch, waiting for their people to return from the little tour. 

 

On the walk from Ton DC to Hundred Camp 

Marching awkwardly, the four young seconds slowly made their way to the Skaikru village. The dead skyborn was hefted between them, so that Artigas could look over at Tris, who helped carry their burden by the shoulders. Behind them, Wesley and Cor were having a hard enough time with the legs. Artigas tried to look brave- he was the eldest here, and though Tris was the chief's second, his father had told him he was to be the only that spoke to the Skaikru. What he was to tell them had been repeated to him until he was sure not even his nerves would make him forget. 

They had to stop several times to rest, for the weight of the Skaikru was heavy enough even divided between the four of them. Tris was keeping up with her fair share, but the younger boys were lagging. Walking into a pauna's lair would be less terrible. Would they shoot him dead in one blow with one of their machines, or draw it out longer? Would Tris and the little boys get away, or had they all been doomed? He shivered, and tried to shake away the fears. At least Wanheda was away, but Polis was not far enough. Being a warrior meant suffering whatever duty you must, but he had not expected to be thrown to his death so soon. It wasn't he that killed the skyborn! Why could not the guilty pay the price? 

Polis 

From the market, Clarke took the lead. Due to the scene with Costia the night before, Clarke reconsidered her previous plan to introduce her mother to Sabine. Instead she merely led them past the healers' building with a smile pasted on her face, and explained that the center would currently be occupied with the teaching of the few current apprentices. It was a shame since it was the only place her mother actually appeared interested. Stepping on Costia's toes again, aside, if the ancient healer returned to the subject of marriage, Clarke knew the fragile composure her mother had found would implode. 

Once they'd passed by, Clarke waved her hand at Wells to lead them all through the city at a stroll. He pointed out everything- woodworkers and potteries, to the few pubs, strong-armed them into butchers and bakeries, explained which streets contained only residences and which housed potential interests- seamstresses, trade shops, and all the rest the capital offered in it's tight confines. Together, Wells, Nathan, and Clarke explained the city in bits and pieces- from the use of it's pre-Catalyst coins, but not paper money, to the healers' daily ritual of feeding the poor, the public bathhouses, the intermingling of clans that happened only here... Thelonious and Marcus soaked up the knowledge, their reasons might be different, but both men were obviously eager to learn whatever they could. Abby's attention stayed fixed upon Clarke, no matter who spoke, nor what they saw, while Bryne and her partner stayed stiff and grim, awaiting attacks at every corner. David Miller, not exactly relaxed, but perhaps the most at ease, listening to all that was offered, but staying close to Nathan's side. 

Showing Arkadia around Polis might have a poor idea, conceded Clarke, at least to herself. Marcus Kane, though more awkward and stiffer than she remembered, was still openly willing to experience the abundantly different culture of the capital. Nate's dad, and her mom, were much more reserved, and downright nervous, if she was being honest. It was vaguely amusing, and yet partially still... unpleasant that every time her mother flinched, Kane took hold of her hand. Abby was the one to drop the handholding each time, as well, and Octavia eyed the pair with heated irritation twisting her face.

Not to be outdone by Captain David Miller's grimacing at every loud noise, nor Dr. Abby Griffin's recoil from every passerby that even slightly encroached upon her personal space, Wells' father had to outdo them all with his blatant combination of snobbish disdain and forced interest. At least he was drawing enough of Octavia's attention from Kane and Clarke's mother. 

“What an... interesting... place.” offered Thelonious haltingly. 

Forcefully, Clarke reminded herself this man had shown absolutely no signs of AI-induced instability. He still seemed very much the man she remembered from the Ark, except his clothes were much less neat, and his beard was alarmingly too similar to the searching for City of Light period. It didn't make it any easier to look at him. 

Unfortunately Wells seemed no more at ease with Thelonious than she was. They all had issues with their respective surviving parents, though. Hardly none of the Hundred have even one surviving parents though, so she reminds herself again to breathe deeply and try to ease the tense atmosphere. 

“This was Baltimore, before the Catalyst, I think.” offered the skai prisa. 

“Ahh...the capital of Maryland State...” mused the elder Jaha curiously. 

It might have been meant as a kindness, but Lexa suggesting that Skaikru, not her own advisers, gave the Arkadians a tour of the capital. She'd once told Clarke it would change the blonde's mind about the grounders. Clearly the commander had the same hope for the elder Skyborns. Perhaps it was more for Skaikru to have a last chance to make sure Arkadia did nothing foolish. That seemed more like the commander's style. It also happened to be more Clarke's. Not that she would be willing to analyze the similarity there. 

Thelonius and Wells, this reunion that had never happened in the previous life. David and Nathan, the most at ease it seemed, though still hesitant and uncertain. Marcus and Octavia eyed each other warily. Now looking at them, Clarke could see the resemblance. Unlike Thelonious, Marcus Kane seemed to have dived headfirst into his personality turnaround that Clarke remembered from another life. Finally, her mother, looking desperately pleased, but still anxious. 

“I am so relieved you've decided on this.” said Clarke, striving for a relaxed tone, though she didn't even realize she was still frowning slightly. 

“Whom have you selected as ambassador?” asked Wells quietly. 

The Arkadians exchanged fleeting glances, but finally Abby spoke. 

“David will be staying here as Ambassador.” explained Clarke's mother. 

Nathan's reaction was somewhere between a smile and a grimace, but he nodded instead of speaking. Somewhat breaking the tension, the doors were thrown open, and Octavia came hurtling inside, heading straight for Clarke, bursting with news. 

“Azgeda is apparently snubbing the summit, and thus Lexa. Their ambassador went out last night before dinner, and vanished. Either someone killed him, and his body hasn't turned up yet, which would definitely be bad for politics, or he's just skipping the summit. It's not exactly a good sign.”

“It'll be quick- a meeting with all the ambassadors, Kane takes the brand, and we'll go down to the city square to make the announcement that it's done. The celebration starts with a feast which you have to stay for, and will continue with drinking and dancing, which you can quietly slip away from.” explained Wells. 

Hundred Camp, Mid-Morning 

“Trikru at the gates!” called one of the watch crew, summoning Jasper and Atom, along with several others who were curious, as always, about one of the forest clan's rare visits. 

The curiosity turned to horror when the gates opened, and the four young grounder boys unceremoniously dropped a brown cloth wrapped bundle at their feet. It landed with a heavy, dull thud, and despite the tight covering, could only possibly be a body. 

“Trikru returns Skaikru their dead. Our healer has prepared him for the placing into the ground in Wanheda's absence.” explained one of the boys slowly. 

Jasper's moan of disbelief was echoed by the exclamations and yelps from the crowd that had gathered around the entrance, but he tried to keep from puking. 

“Thank... thank you... for returning... him.” stuttered out Jasper, trying to think of what Clarke would do if she was here now. 

Oh, he wished she was here, or Bellamy, or Octavia, or even Miller or Wells... Someone, anyone else, to have to deal with this. 

Beside the scrawny chemist, Atom nodded in jerky, uncertain motions, agreeing, though he didn't have any words to voice. 

Only after the Trikru boys had slipped away into the woods, did Atom slowly, grimly take the couple steps forward to kneel down at the body. He struggled with the tightly wound cloth, until Jasper joined him, helping unwrap just the top of the covering. 

It was Derek all right, with a blood encrusted gnash on the side of his head, though his face and hair had obviously been washed except for the wound. Somewhere in the crowd, a girl began to cry, and Hundred Camp felt it's spirits fall even further. Another grave, another of the hundred's name to be carved into a sheet of metal as the only memorial of them. 

Atom stood up, though Jasper remained kneeling, carefully re-wrapping the shroud. 

“Get a grave dug, and his name added to the wall.” commanded the watcher firmly, pushing away thoughts of how he was going to explain this to Bellamy. 

Later 

Atom looked over the gathering. He'd watched Bellamy preside over numerous funerals, and even a funeral preceded by an execution. Performing one himself hadn't crossed his mind till the body hit the ground at his feet. A few of the delinquents looked worried, a couple even looked upset, but mainly the only Skaikru to look overly bothered by the death was the crying pregnant girl whose name he couldn't remember. If they knew what he'd found when he and Goggles had hauled the body into the dropship to wait for the grave digging, they'd probably be more alarmed- it wasn't the bashing on the head that had killed Derek. At least not alone. Goggles had shrugged, but guessed that it was the cut on his thigh, cleaned up, but deep, that had actually killed him. 

At least Bellamy had always kept this gig short. Standing over the latest grave, Atom had no problem channeling the camp's leader. 

“safe passage on your-” 

He didn't know who was gagging at first, but then the pregnant girl went down to her hands and knees, puking not far from the line of graves. 

“Shit.” whispered Goggles, just a little off to Atom's left, and he echoed the sentiment more vehemently. Something told him the day just got worse. 

The stinking, neon colored bile splattered all around her- sending the kids scattering, just in time for the girl to pass out. Shrieks rose up around her, and a handful of girls splashed into the puddles of vomit to pull her up. Between them, they had her awkwardly held up, glaring at the rest of the gathering as they carried her back into camp. 

Arkadia, Evening 

Conversation having suffered and died an awkward, tense death, Jackson and Sinclair sat on either side of the desk, waiting for the stirring from the radio that laid between them. 

Sunset, Polis 

It was Lexa's doing, Clarke was sure, that this summit was unfolding so similarly to the one of their shared memory. Even the same gold dress had been awaiting Clarke on her bed this afternoon, but it would have meant exposing the swirled scars on her legs to wear it. So it was left behind- a relic of a time before. Instead Clarke had donned more typical grounder gear- deerskin leggings under a thick, dark woven tunic, with the Ark-issue boots she was intending to keep until they fell off her feet. Shifting restlessly, she glanced sideways at Bellamy, wishing, only for a moment, that he remembered what had happened. 

At least, sitting tense and stiff upon her throne, Lexa seemed to be thinking of the same- for she kept her eyes trained on the doors despite the crowd huddling around the room.

“It won't happen again.” Clarke repeated to herself, clenching her hands together in front of her. Azgeda wasn't even present tonight- their ambassador had been seen leaving the city late last night, fleeing, before the commander became aware of the ice nation's refusal to accept the new clans. Outright snubbing the summit was an insult, that surely meant trouble to come, but for tonight at least, they should be safe. 

Still, Clarke was glad Bellamy had encouraged the camp to keep away from the mountain during the summit. Just to not tempt fate. 

It didn't escape Clarke's notice that Marcus, Thelonius, David, and Abby, the entire Arkadian delegation, all had children among the leaders of Skaikru. It was a coincidence for the first three, but David Miller had never been involved in leading Arkadia in the past life, so Clarke was willing to bet that it had something to do with Nathan's own position. 

That Lexa was flanked only by Titus and Gaia to one side, and Aden with the rest of the novitiates barring Crest and Thelia, rankled Clarke. Instead, Costia stood, expression mostly hidden by the shadows cast by her deep green hood, behind Indra, with the Trikru delegation. 

The singing ceased with the wave of Lexa's hand. Remebering his cue, Kane stepped forwards, beginning his walk to Lexa and Titus, a slight smile on his face. Watching from across the hall, Clarke was both comforted by, and made nervous of, the scowl on Thelonious' face. She gripped Charlotte's hand tightly, and the younger girl answered with a strong squeeze as well. 

The roar of noise seemed to build out of nowhere, but they heard it in time for everyone to turn to the doors, and the fastest swordsmen were at the ready by the time the doors were forced open. 

The white war paint stood out in the flickering lights of the hundreds of candles. The ambassador was older, a bit rounded with age, little work, and good food, His whitish mane was braided back for the first time that Clarke had ever seen, but it was obviously still the same man Lexa had once kicked off the tower. Only a handful of his clansmen flanked him- likely the advisers and guards that made up the rest of the ice nation's delegation. Lexa's own warriors were crowding them, but everyone waited, silent and expectant, without acting yet. 

“What is the meaning of your late arrival?” barked the commander with her eyes trained upon the Azgeda. 

“This is the abyss where you choose the fate of your legacy.” crowed the sneering white faced ambassador,

“Queen Nia and Crown Prince Roan of Azgeda call for a vote of no confidence.” continued the bold man with his eyes not on Lexa anymore, but roving over the assembly. 

“Crown Prince Roan” the claim hit Clarke brutally, and she gasped, taking a half-step backwards in the pain of the betrayal. She'd thought, this time... 

“Guards! Arrest these plotters!” roared Titus, coming to stand in before Lexa, and Clarke's eyes flickered between them at the familiar words. She took a long step forwards out of the crowd, and when Lexa's green eyes met hers, walked forwards and took a place at Lexa's side in support. 

“No. Let Azgeda make their play.” ordered the commander once Clarke stood at her side. Aden had come forwards instinctively as well, at her other side. 

Titus looked stricken when he glanced at his commander, but Clarke ignored the exchange. Instead she was watching the rest of the ambassadors- no one, it seemed, wanted to be the first to speak in either agreement, or dissension of the vote. 

It was not Broadleaf this time that broke ranks to begin the call of “no heda no more”.

It was the Desert Clan, but before the words were hardly out of her mouth, another ambassador echoed the call. The Plains Riders, and then a third- Shallow Valley. Blue Cliffs stood, and chanted the call. 

The room stood still for a long hard moment 

“Trikru keep the faith.” murmured Indra formally, and Clarke looked quickly between the Trikru ambassador, and the commander, not remembering the words from before. Frowning, unsure if she was meant to echo it, she added her voice anyway.

“Skaikru keeps the faith.” 

The look Lexa threw her quickly assured her that she'd been correct to repeat the same words. 

“Floukru keeps the faith.” announced Luna's ambassador smoothly. He stood alone, the only ambassador to do so, without a delegation huddled around him. But he was young, and strong, holding his head up high even all alone in the treacherous waters. 

“Delfikru keeps the faith.” boomed an ambassador before the Floukru had hardly gotten his own words out. 

Clarke's eyes settled on the broad chested, sandy haired man whose heavy face was redder than his faded crimson tunic- this must be Aden's cousin, the brother of the suitor Titus was so encouraging of. She smiled in gratitude at his firm support of the commander. A wicked smirk grew on his face, and he bowed his head in her direction. 

Four, and four... the room held still again, with only hushed murmurs flying around. 

“Rock Line keeps the faith.” was followed by more support, until finally, reclunatnly, with grudging words and heavy scowls from their delegation, Broadleaf joined in the resistance against Azgeda's coup. 

The Azgeda delegation stood, stiff, and sneering, all hands resting upon their weapons besides the ambassador himself, as the tally came in. 

Lexa smirked in victory. Exhaling heavily in relief, Clarke relaxed minutely at her side. 

“Now fall in line, or leave Polis before the sun has left the sky.” decreed the commander. 

The room was still, waiting, quiet. With a sneer, the ice nation ambassador bowed in a short, jerky motion before he moved to lead his delegation back to their place among the clans. The people did not move to accept them back into the ranks of the coalition, though, and the Azgeda were forced to wait, standing still, silent and furious, until Lexa finally signaled lazily for the crowd to part. 

Early Evening, Hundred Camp 

Collette, who'd draped Mary's arm over her shoulder, and hauled her away from the graveyard with Bree's help, and a few others' anxious following, took charge- kicking out of the guys, and a few of the less helpful girls from the dropship while they waited for Troy and Sterling to run to Ton DC. Mary had woken up only moments after being hauled into the drop ship, and was soon curled up in a ball crying. The Skaikru boys must have flown, and Nyko couldn't have dallied either, because in under two hours, they arrived. Collette had come out, glaring around, and shooed everyone away from the drop ship's open door, and taking the less than subtle hint, Atom had yelled for everyone to get back to work. 

It was more than an hour, and the camp was sitting around the fire eating dinner. Nyko left the drop ship solemnly, being met first by Atom and Jasper, though they had the eye of nearly the entire camp. 

“Too little food, water, rest, will make the child will come too soon.”

“Will she be ok?” blurted out Jasper anxiously.

The Trikru healer nodded slowly. 

“Thank you for dealing with her.” said Atom. 

Nyko eyed the boys before him, noting yet again that they were hardly older than his own son. Wanheda's general had accompanied to Polis, but still, an entire village left to the untried boys was... risky. 

“Trikru owes a debt that can never be fulfilled to the mountain slayer, and she has asked that we care for her people when she is away. We honor our duties.” 

With those parting words, he left, heading straight for the gate that was barely opened in time to keep him from going straight through it. 

As Atom watched the gate swing shut again, he thought about the summit happening right now, a day's travel away, and hoped things were going better there than here. Striding over to him, a sandy brown haired girl slipped her arm through his, and looked worriedly up at him.

“Mary ok?” asked Collette. 

Atom shrugged. “Needs water, and meat, and to rest, but yea.”

“Well, the shock about Derek was awful for her.” 

He frowned at her. “Looks of people have died, and she hasn't passed out before.”

Collette rolled her eyes. “Lots of people that weren't her boyfriend.” 

He gaped at her for a moment. “Derek and the pregnant chick?” 

She scowled at him. 

“Camp is more crowded than Skybox. How do you not know who's dating who?” she demanded. 

Snickering, he turned back to watching over the camp. 

“Because I've got too much shit to do to sit around and gossip with Wick. Besides most everyone is switching up every other week.” 

Punching his arm mockingly, Collette smirked when he rubbed the spot reluctantly. “Mary didn't!” 

Shrugging again, Atom nodded his head towards the water tent, where a petite little dark haired girl that couldn't be more than fifteen was flirting charmingly with the small group of boys that regularly followed her around. 

“C'mon, Pavel's got a harem, and I'm supposed to care about who's doing who?” 

Collette laughed. “There's twice as many guys as girls. Why not have two or three if you can put up them?” she teased. 

Scowling at her, Atom, wrapped his arm around her to pull her closer. 

Polis 

Skaikru stood close together, as they watched Marcus Kane's now branded arm be raised by Titus, and sways slightly, dizzy, as the pair of overlapping memories meld within her mind,

“The coalition welcomes the clan of Arkadia!” yelled Lexa.

This was a victorious moment- successfully bringing Arkadia into the coalition at last. Already half-way to Praimfaya, finally, she could relax, a little at least. Even Octavia's lips curled into a pleased smirk, and her dark eyes were lit up, flickering brightly in the candle light. With a burst of laughter, Bellamy turned to grab his sister and twirled her around in a loose hug, the others scattering out of their way. As her people laughed and cheered, allowing herself only a short moment unguarded before Clarke glanced around. The grounders, loudly roaring in answer to the Lexa's pronouncement, hardly seemed to notice the exuberance of the Skaikru. Filling the chamber, and the tower, with the noise echoed out into the waiting city. 

As the cheers began to slow, the doors burst open again. 

The guards who'd been blocking the entrance fell to the floor, their chests red with fresh blood. It seemed the roars of welcome had covered up their struggles, and Azedgan warriors, covered in white, poured into the room. In haste, the crowd surged forwards as the strong warriors of each delegation pushed their way closer, and others fell back, to line the walls, reorganizing themselves, trying to avoid growing any nearer to the open end of the chamber. Clarke saw only a glimpse of Octavia's dark braids flying as she shoved her way to stand on the front line, even as the blonde grabbed her second to shove the girl against the wall, as Bellamy was corralling the untrained members of their group. Useless in this fight, Raven and Wick stood with Monty and Charlotte, who drew her sword with a shivering chin, but steady hand. Moving quickly as possible in the packed room with grounder weapons to maneuver around, the rest of Skaikru stood before them. 

The difference between this summit, and the past- only Arkadia was unarmed by order of the commander. 

Only once the doors were blocked, a squad of white faced men, stripped of their furs, at ready with swords in one hand and knives in their other, stretching out into the hall beyond, did the ambassador rush to stand before them, facing the commander with his face twisted spitefully. 

“The Queen does not recognize the weak commander, nor the coalition of fools who follow her.” spat the ambassador, in either bravery, or foolishness. 

“Arrest them.” said Lexa. 

Sword in hand, shifting from foot to foot uneasily, Clarke hung about the middle of the quickly organizing battle lines, knowing she lacked the practiced skill of those who'd been training here in Polis, and in Ton DC, who still fell short of matching the true warriors, but more than willing to defend those who huddled against the wall. Still, her people were far outnumbered by grounders as most of the ambassadors keeping a couple warriors in their delegations, and she couldn't see through the crowd where the Arkadians had ended up. 

Stepping away from her throne, Lexa drew her own sword in a slow, calm movement. 

Feeling someone brush against her, Clarke turned her gaze away from the commander to see that Charlotte had slipped away from the others to stand at Clarke's side, in front of Monty, and Raven, and Wick. Clarke grimaced when their eyes met, but made no move to send her back. With a reluctant nod, the sky princess grimly acknowledged that her second was undoubtedly more prepared for this fight than she was. The younger blonde smiled, one quick twitch of her lips, and squared up her slim shoulders as she readied herself to fight rather than cower. 

“Arrest them.” came Lexa's order, and the taunt quiet of the calm before the storm snapped as Indra rushed towards the traitors, leading the fight, but she was followed so swiftly, that she was soon unidentified from the mass of armor and steel weapons flashing in the light of a hundred tiny flames. 

The battle cries, became pained yells, and whimpers, unheard in the heat, as men and women died ugly deaths. The Azgeda may have come in with swords and knives, but they'd worn axes on their backs to cut their way through the coalition's council, and the commander's own warriors. 

Sweat filled the air with it's noxious scent, but before Clarke had even been forced out of her defensive stance in front of her untrained people, the coppery stench of blood was wafting towards them. 

Worse still was the smells of piss and feces from the dead that followed. 

The center of the room became a horror show, even as the fight spread out away from it. 

Intestines unraveling on the ground in the dirt as they fell from their owners. 

As Nathan fell, Clarke lunged at the white face who'd slashed her watcher across the chest, impaling him just so between his ribs, with the accuracy born of medical practice rather than her too infrequent training under Lexa. It was enough to see the light dim in the enemy's eyes, but she struggled to pull her sword back from within his chest, yanking it again as he fell, but only able to free it once he'd hit the ground- with a boot holding his chest down, she yanked one last time, and it came free with a sucking gush as blood rushed free. 

The ice nation had poured in more men than they should have been able to hide in a city so small, and the ambassadors were mostly men too old to hold their own, but the coalition's representatives fought back fiecrely, and it was only minutes before more of Lexa's guards, the ones thought not needed for the night, and the ones who'd been down in the city, watching over the visiting masses getting an early start on celebrating, to flood the hallway beyond the chamber. Fighting on both sides, unable to overtake the commander's hall as quickly as they'd counted on, the Azgeda began to fall. 

From tucked inside the waistband of Ark-issued pants, Bellamy withdrew a handgun he'd carefully concealed just in case, he moved through the room away from the knot of Skaikru towards the center, putting a bullet into the head of every ice nation warrior he could get a clear shot at. 

Only once the ambassador, who'd taken up an ax at some point, and the last few ice nation that had remained on their feet were forced down to their knees did the room begin the ease. Lexa's roar for a cease echoed over the yells for their deaths, and demands of a thousand cuts to be dealt out came again, but those who stood over the ice nation survivors stilled in obedience.

It was over. 

More of the gathering lay upon the ground, in heaps, across one another, than were able to stand on their own. Too many of them lay, still and silent, with stomachs gnashed open, or throats a bloody ruin, and Clarke looked desperately over the floor for those who still grimaced in pain, and moaned in the misery this night had brought them. Some ancient, with their long grey beards turned rusty red, having survived long decades on Earth only to fall in a battle that had never happened in the life before. Even too many of those who still stood swayed and cringed as they struggled to stay upright. Who wore their own blood, or only that of others, was impossible to tell yet. 

Digging her elbows into the ribs of anyone in her way, Costia shoved through the crowd, away from the wall where she'd been pushed in the battle. As she neared the center of the room, ignoring the Azgedan who'd been forced to their knees there, she looked this way, and that, cataloging the chaos with a steady frown. 

“Someone, fetch more healers from the center. Now! Bring water, and cloth, as much as can be found!” barked the young Trikru healer. Before anyone even moved, she hurried to kneel down beside on the nearest injured. The room shifted around, as everyone tried to process the end of the fight, but a few people broke out of the mess, sprinting once clear of the crowd, to follow the order. Digging into the satchel she wore on her hip, she went to work with the swiftness that belied her composed expression. 

As Clarke, who'd been checking over the cut along Charlotte's shoulder before hearing Costia's yell, turned back to the younger girl, Lexa's voice now rang out above the fray. 

“Execute the ambassador, and imprison his advisers.” 

Ripples washed through the gathering, and Clarke fought down the urge to vomit- grabbing Octavia's wrist when the dark haired girl's sword rasped against it's sheath as it was withdrawn. 

“Wanheda will end this.” cried Titus. 

All eyes fell onto to her. Clarke's chest seized up, unable to force a breathe of air in. Looking to Lexa, hope was shattered when the commander nodded.

The flame-keeper waved his hand towards the condemned, and Octavia shoved the blonde's shoulder. Automatically taking a step forwards, Clarke eyed the commander still, as if awaiting a last minute reprieve.

It didn't come. Hard green eyes met Clarke's without intervening. 

Chilled deep, down to her bones, she bent and pulled the knife from her boot. John's, kept on hand more as warning than memento. Measuring her steps against the frantic beating of her heart, she approached the ice nation's ambassador as slowly as she could. 

“Wanheda is the fitting hand of the punishment.” agreed Lexa. 

She looked back to Lexa again, but the pleading had drained from her expression. It was replaced by furious betrayal in her hardened eyes and deeply etched frown. In this life, her mother had never seen her kill. The commander was stripping that last bit of, feigned though it was, innocence away. 

Shifting her gaze to her own people, and did not see the depths of horror, or fear, that she expected. But still, she did not dare look towards Arkadia. It wasn't as easy to block out the sounds of her mother's cries of protest and outrage, but Clarke's blood was throbbing so loudly in her ears she could force herself to ignore it. 

With a forced calm, slowly, in control of herself even if nothing else, Clarke met the eyes of the man she was about to kill. His were vicious instead, a sneer twisting his face, without apology, and only the faintest flickers of fear. A strong arm across his forehead was restraining his head, forcing his neck to be exposed for her hand, and two more guards held him by the shoulders and arms. Looking over, Clarke recognized the scarred, handsome face of the obnoxious Blue Cliffs warrior as one of them. He held her gaze respectfully, for just a moment, before he glanced down. A last deep breathe to steady her hand, and with the same ease she'd once ended Atom's suffering, Clarke curtailed the ice nation rebellion, for tonight at least. 

“Your fight is over.” intoned the sky girl. 

Once the corpse of the ambassador, and his men, living for now if not much longer, had been dragged from the hall, Lexa had smirked over the congregation, and continued the summit as if nothing had ever stalled it. 

Blood drying slowly on her, Clarke moved numbly back to her people, and Monty's hand felt cold as pulled her closer to him. With a whispered reassurance, Wells threw an arm over her shoulder, and she let herself huddle between them silently as Bellamy, and Nathan, and Wick, moved to make a wall in front of her- shielding her from the eyes that had followed her. Behind her, she could feel the others moved in closely, but the warmth of their bodies didn't seem to reach her. 

Another life on her conscience. 

More blood on her hands. 

And for what? 

For Lexa to show off that she had the obedience of the commander of death?

The clans have merely closed ranks as the dust settled. No gap was left where the ice nation had stood. As if they had never been. But Azgeda, Roan, was lost. If only she'd told him about Praimfaya, or even about it all, before she'd let him leave Polis. If only... A pain echoed at her temple, and she swayed. Startled, Bellamy wrapped a hand around her arm to steady her, but her eyes were far away. The conflicting memories crashed over her in waves.


End file.
